Just Stay Alive
by Not2BForgotten
Summary: After a major arrest and discovery of a witness thanks to Greg, a crimelord targets Greg to get what he wants. As the other CSI's work to save his life they discover that no one is safe! Lot's of whump NickGreg Friendship! No Slash!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Okay, here is my first CSI story. Forgive me if anything is wrong, I've only seen the first two seasons and that is what my knowledge is based off of. I will be updating either every day or every other(I have the first 15 chapters already written) A friend of mine helped me get around the document uploading glich so here is the story at last! Please R&R!**

Chapter 1

Greg pulled his jacket closer around him. It was cold out here. They waited in dead silence for the suspect to come out. He had a silly grin spread across his face. He couldn't help it. He felt so happy and proud of himself. The dreadful cold, harsh, whipping wind, and torrential downpour couldn't put a dampener on this night. He popped his head up a little higher, the silly grin spreading ear to ear as the teams came out the suspect in hand. This was an especially important suspect capture to him. It would only happen once. This was the first suspect that was found because of evidence that _he'd_ found and clues that only _he'd_ deciphered. His biggest fear was laid to rest in darkness for this one night at least. He always feared not being able to live up to the others' expectations. Of letting them down.

They never would have been able to arrest this man, this criminal if he hadn't found that evidence. He couldn't be more glad that he'd found that evidence and not just because it gave him that warm fuzzy feeling for having played a key role in the take down of this criminal. He was most happy because they'd gotten a serial murderer off the streets and on top of that, the evidence he'd uncovered had led them to an eye-witness that could link this man and many others that apparently formed a small crime ring, together with substantial almost undefeatable evidence. They were sure to be convicted. He watched as they led the suspect to the car in cuffs. The man looked directly at them and Greg saw what exactly it was he had helped to put away. It sent a small shiver up his spine. The man still had the blood of his last victim on his hands.

He'd seen the photos of the victims. They'd been gruesome at best. He could never understand how a human being could possibly do something like that to another person and live with themselves. He didn't want to understand. He had found the evidence about fifteen minutes before the body of the last victim had been found. He was glad that he'd found the evidence when he did, a few more hours he'd been told, and they would have had another murder victim. His mind went back to the witness they'd found. He couldn't imagine having witnessed all those murders being committed, as well as all the other crimes this man and the others the witness could connect him too, and still keep their sanity. He hoped the jury that these men ended up with would see the witness sensibly and see the truth in it all and convict them right away. All he could do was hope.

Warrick and Nick stood in front of Greg, fairly close together but not so much that they blocked his view as the criminal was brought out. Greg had done a superb job. He found the one shred of evidence that they had all missed and it turned out to be the most important bit of evidence they had. Warrick smiled at Greg. He knew this was a really important thing for him. Nick simply smiled at everybody right now. They all knew that Greg was afraid of messing things up and letting them down, but he didn't seem to realize that he hardly ever made a mistake, at least until now. It was comical, that look on his face. He knew too that this was a good step. He'd done something important that everyone else had missed. If he didn't realize how important to the team he was before, perhaps now he will at least get a glimpse.

Once the criminal was securely locked in the car being driven away they turned to get into their own car. Nick laughed at Greg. He was standing there with his big grin, hunched and shivering, the faint sound of chattering teeth competing with the wind and rain.

"You know what we're going to do now Greg?"

"What?" He asked between chattering teeth.

"I'm going to buy you a coat. Every time I see you, you're shivering. Do you even own something besides a thin long-sleeve shirt?" Greg looked up, searching for his answer.

"No, I don't think I do."

"See, the next time I see you, you'll be a popsicle."

"I think it's his life dream to be a popsicle." Warrick chimed in.

"Yeah and what do you plan on buying me? Huh?"

"What, you find the key piece of evidence on a case and all of a sudden we have to buy you presents?"

"Now you're getting the idea. You can even have the privilege of calling me majesty as well, but don't advertise, others might be jealous. You know, the favoritism idea and all."

"Well your _majesty_, if you don't hurry up and get in the car, you'll be too wet to be permitted in _my_ car and have to walk home." Greg stopped smiling for a moment worried about the how serious Nick really was and was in the car in what looked like less than a second. The grin reappeared immediately once he was inside the car, his ride secure again.

--ooOoo--

He looked out his window at the scene before him. There were cars everywhere with those horrid blue and red lights flashing in his eyes. Those were the colors he hated the most. They represented the guys that got in his way. He had so many things he had planned. So many ambitions. It was a shame people kept getting in his path, if they would just stop getting in his way they would still be alive. Life would be so much simpler for them all if people wouldn't stumble upon him in the middle of his work or purposefully stick their noses into his work with the intent to impede just like the clowns outside right now. More people would still be alive and he wouldn't have such a large trail of bodies leading to him. If they ever found a connection to him he would be doomed. Up until now they'd only found some of his minor underlings, but they'd been faithful to him. None had confessed to working for him or to even being part of this little crime ring he had going.

He knew for a fact that the man they were currently walking away with wouldn't give him up, that was one reason why he'd been so perfect for the job. The man was perfect. He accepted his money without complaint or demand for more, never asked why, and never asked any questions at all. He was content so long as he had his regular payments of money. That was also why he happened to know _everything._ He had proven beyond just trustworthy and therefore had been told everything. He no longer had reason to ask questions because there wasn't anything about the operations he didn't know and knew it. Currently he was feeling a little homicidal as he watched through his snooperscopes as his third in command was led away in a car. This was a huge stumbling block in his plan. This had to be ratified and fast.

His gaze focused towards a trio standing apart from the commotion. Two men and a kid stood watching the criminal being led away. The two men had simple smiles but the kid had this irritating, proud, gigantic grin spread across his face. The man scowled. This was not a night to be happy. The kid was completely oblivious to the protective, guarding stances of the two men that stood in front of him. The man gained a malicious grin as he saw that both men held their hands on their guns in a deceptively casual grip that subtly tightened as his third in command was led right past them. The kid had been oblivious to that as well. He watched them exchange words in a short conversation then drive off. His smile grew. If you couldn't out smart the enemy, then get rid of the enemy brains, or at least give them something else to focus on. It was when they were distracted and panicked that they were easiest to take out, and that was the exact plan. Distract them, give them something more important, time consuming, and time sensitive to work on, and while they're reeling to regain their balance and focus, just pick them off one by one. It was ingenious and a proven plan.

He sauntered into the kitchen. It was nights like these that made him glad he always stayed so close to those working under him. This time he'd been caught by surprise and hadn't been in his own place of residence when he got the call that one of his men was being arrested. He'd been out running an errand and simply 'borrowed' a local's residence for a while so he could observe. Had he been home he would have just gone to a window, but he hadn't, so he was here now. He dinked around the kitchen for a moment until he found a lovely looking serrated knife. He caressed the blade lovingly. It looked so simple, just a reflective metal, but it was a deadly weapon, especially in his hands. He meandered to the small closet in the bedroom opening the door. Within was the owner of this home, duct-taped to a chair, sock stuffed in his mouth and a strip of tape over his mouth.

He jerked back terrified, whimpering as tears streamed down his pitiful face. The man paid no attention to the actions of his victim. He leaned forward, slicing deeply the inner, upper arm swiftly, and tossed the knife aside. A cut like that and the man would bleed out in minutes. The deed done he left the home grumbling. He huffed and puffed his way out into the rain. He loved the rain, dark, dismal, destructor of evidence, and the perfect weather to hide within. No one ever noticed suspicious characters leaving their neighbors apartments where they didn't belong. They were too busy huddling in their blankets, on couches, hot chocolate or coffee, and their movies and books making reappearances. He unlocked the car angrily and climbed inside, his mind now on the contents in the trunk. Grumbling he drove away. His ice cream was most likely melted by now.

**A/N: What'd you think? The chapters get longer as they go! Let me know!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: OH MY GOSH! I got 7 reviews for this baby and 5 of them were in the first hour that I put this up! So I couldn't hold back the gratitude and will give this to you today, instead of tomorrow like I'd planned! I love you guys!**

Chapter 2

Greg bounced quietly up the stairs to his apartment. He was in a good mood, of course, Starbucks coffee had that effect on people. That and having been the one to discover a bit of evidence in a tough case that opened up a whole new can of worms to be convicted. And now thanks to him, they could convict those worms. He laughed mentally at his analogy. By the time he reached the top of the stairs and stood before his apartment door digging through his pockets for the keys, he felt the adrenaline rush begin to ebb. A yawn escaped as he plunked the keys down on a small table by the door, locking it behind him. He shed his soaked clothes and dawned some nice dry clothing while his "college cuisine" cooked in the microwave. He yawned again. The thought of having to get up later motivated him to go to bed as soon as possible since it was nearly eight in the evening already. He yawned again. He still felt cold and the thought of curling up under a heap of warm cozy blankets was like heaven. He checked messages on his machine before leaving his room. None, just the way he liked it.

He went to look for a drink in the fridge while his food finished cooking when he heard what sounded like table or chair scraping across the floor caught his attention. He turned to locate the disruption and found a man wearing a black ski mask and black clothes a few feet behind him. He felt the adrenaline spike as the man stepped closer. Greg stepped sideways keeping the distances the as it was before the man had stepped forward.

"You were a real pain today."

"What?" He was fighting back the fear as he looked for a way out.

"Because of you we watched an important person get locked away." Greg's eyes went wide and his hand shot for the cell phone in his pocket. The man charged him like a bull slamming into Greg's side, the cell phone skittering away into oblivion. The man's momentum carried him into the fridge door with a crash. Greg squirmed free of his grip, stumbling to the side then towards his bedroom, off balance. He heard the guy clamor to his feet and follow after like thunder. He rushed into his room slamming the door shut and locking it. The intruder was crashing against his door within seconds. Greg stood braced against the door in a panic looking for something useful. His eyes landed on the phone by the bed.

_Call some one! That'll work!_ He abandon the door hoping it would hold against the bulldozer of an intruder long enough. His hand hovered over the number keys, the corded phone hovering next to his ear when he heard the lock break with a loud crack. He hadn't had a chance to react before he was bowled over by the intruder. They crashed onto the middle of the bed, bounced, and landed hard on the other side of the bed, the intruder on top.

Greg gasped as the wind knocked out of him. He squirmed desperately under the sheer weight of the man, fighting to get his wrists out from under the man's solid knees. The man barraged him with rock hard blows to the face until his mind slowed, his movements became sluggish, and his struggles subdued. The man climbed to his feet and walked to the window by the fire escape and opened it fully. He shoved a barely conscious Greg through, onto the fire escape with a graceless clang then climbed through himself. He carried his capture down he escape swiftly, eager to be on his way. The boss prided himself on the punctuality and promptness of his employees. It was in his best interest to maintain the standard if not exceed it.

Greg was faintly aware of his being picked up and squeezed through a small space. He tried to struggle but his limbs wouldn't obey his command. Suddenly he fell a short distance slamming against a hard surface in a heap. The world was filled with an icy wind and sheets of sharp rain pelleted his body. He gave a distant groan again attempting to command his own body but it continued its mutiny against him. He could feel himself being carried in a downward motion. The world spun circles around him as he descended, the pattern of footsteps echoing in his head. He barely noticed when the footsteps stopped and for a moment he was standing still within the spinning universe. Again he was being shoved into a small space, except this time he didn't fall, there was barely enough room for him even when he was curled, and a slam from above cut off the wind and rain leaving him in a silent darkness. His clarity sharpened a little and he discerned that he was in the trunk of a moving car. There was a cold hiss of air against his neck now. He found it harder and harder to keep his eyelids from drooping or even form a thought. He fought to stay awake but soon the pull of the drug was too great and his dark little reality faded away.

--ooOoo--

Nick placed another yellow, numbered flag over a piece of evidence. Warrick was close behind taking photographs of each piece of evidence that had been found. It was a small home, ruined by a murder. He placed another flag, another picture snapped, another sign of a crime. He scoured the room for another shred of evidence. He placed another flag.

"So anybody seen Greg yet?"

"He hasn't shown up for work yet." Warrick answered.

"So either he's really late or his majesty caught pneumonia last night and called in sick?" Warrick smirked.

"He hasn't called in sick. In fact, nobody's heard from him." Nick cocked an eyebrow. Placing another flag while pulling out his cell phone. He placed another flag while it dialed. Then he hung up.

"It's busy. Probably him calling in now." He shrugged, pocketing the phone and putting down another flag. They continued flagging, photographing, and bagging the evidence without another thought. At some point far later in the day he called again and again got a busy signal. He frowned. That was very odd. Greg wasn't much of a phone person, let alone be on all this time and usually Nick didn't have bad timing like this. Someone demanding his attention broke through his train of thought and he pushed his brooding to the back of his mind for a stretch of time. Eventually he found himself at the end of the day and ready to go home, and still no one had heard from Greg.

"You going home?" Warrick asked.

"Dropping by Greg's place first. Make sure he's still breathing." As he drove to Greg's apartment he tried the phone again idly and again it was busy. He was starting to get that gut feeling that something was wrong. If he'd really been sick he would have called in and he most definitely wouldn't be on the phone _this _long or often. He bit his lip thinking of all the possibilities as he drove. His mind only came to one conclusion. Something was wrong. Getting out of his car he noticed that someone's window was open and navy blue curtains blew in and out of it in the wind. _Kind of odd to have the window open when it's raining?_ He jumped out of his car, the gut feeling growing with every second. He sprinted up the stairs to his apartment. The door was ajar and the locks clearly broken. He drew his gun and cautiously stepped inside, the investigator section of his mind tracking his every step. The apartment was thrashed. He could see overturned chairs, the fridge door was ripped off its hinges and lay mangled in the floor various jars and cans exploded on the floor.

"Greg! Greg are you in here?" no answer

'Greg if you can hear me make some kind of noise." nothing. Nick gulped. Greg wasn't here. He pulled out his phone and called the rest of the team, knowing as soon as he hung up that they were all breaking several speed limits with ease. He carefully left the apartment, making more mental notes of things he touched and where he stepped. He'd barely stepped out when pain exploded through the side of his face. He fell to his knees the gun slipping free of his grip with a thunk. A second blow to his back set him to the floor. Another blow landed on his shoulder. He got to his knees and crawled speedily away from his unknown attacker. One more blow landed on his calf before he was far enough away from his assailant to scramble to his feet. He whirled around and nearly had to catch his jaw as it dropped to an all time low. Before him stood a small, slightly hunch, old lady with a solid wooden cane raised like a bat. Her voice was solid but shook in a typical old lady voice as she glared at him with an expression that sent genuine chills up his back.

"What are you doing in Greggie's home? Causing trouble no doubt. HOODLUM!" Nick put his hand up in a defensive pose while the other was wrapped around his midriff easing the pain in his shoulder, barely.

"Ma'am if you would just put down the cane I can explain." her eyes narrowed another shiver running up his spine. He was glad it was still daylight, this woman was frightening. Definitely someone he didn't want to run into at night.

"Well!"

"I'm Nick Stokes, I work with the Las Vegas Crime scene investigation, Greg is a co-worker. I hadn't heard from him and he didn't show up for work so I came to make sure he was okay." he was astounded that her glare could reach a more severe intensity, but it did. Then she relaxed some lowering her cane to the floor to be used for it assigned function instead of a stick to beat him with. Circling warily like predators he was able to retrieve his gun and holster it. Suddenly the room did cartwheels. He lurched into the wall, he pounding and let himself sink to the floor. He could feel his eye swelling already along with various big bruises that were no doubt swelling and discoloring along his back, shoulders, and on his calf.

"I suppose you'd like some ice?" her voice was sharp and unremorseful.

"Okay" she disappeared into her house for a short time. In that time Nick realized that his back was killing him in this position and his head he held no hope for. He silently slid to lay flat on the floor arms resting on his stomach, and fingers laced together. When she returned with a ice pack filled with icy water he set it on top of his face ensuring that he was able to breath still. The cold felt so good but his head was still tempted to explode. He was tempted to ask for an Aspirin but then he realized that she would probably give him arsenic or some other deadly drug and finish off her good work. After hardly a moment she went back in and didn't come out again. That was fine with him. He would never admit it to anyone, especially out loud, but he was officially scared of her. He could hear a pack of footsteps approaching, knowing that it would be the team he knew he should get up but he didn't want to move. That lady had a strong swing. The steps got louder and he finally forced himself to sit up, the ice pack sliding into his lap. He hissed as he braced against the wall to climb to his feet, able to feel the difference in swelling now. They all stopped him in front of him, as he clutched loosely to the wall as the room spun.

"Nick! What happened? Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. I ran into one of Greg's…neighbors…and their cane" Grissom looked at him inquiringly but was cut off before he could answer.

"You better wise up boy! When someone lets you use something of theirs you don't leave it lyin' on the ground!" Nick yelped and jumped behind Warrick. Warrick grinned biting back his laugh. He had a feeling he'd just met the neighbor.

"Ma'am, did you attack him with a cane?"

"His fault. Sneakin' around with a gun like that. Thought he was an intruder."

"Do I need to confiscate your cane or will you be peaceable now."

"Your choice, not like I need anythin' but my bare hands to whoop the whelp" Warrick couldn't hold in the snort rewarded by a punch in the shoulder from Nick. The old woman sharpened her glare and he barely stifled another laugh as Nick shrank further behind him. With that she wheeled around, disappearing back into her apartment, bag of ice in hand.

"Are you sure you're okay Nick? You look awful." Nick rolled his eyes but immediately regretted it as the room took a spin. It didn't go unnoticed but when they told him to go home he refused. He couldn't go home, not yet. He had to help find Greg. He helped to process the scene. He shuddered at the thought. He couldn't bear to think of Greg's apartment as a crime scene. He was struggling to keep his focus, pushing all the different images of what could have happened to his friend. The throbbing headache didn't help. If it hadn't been for the circumstances he never would have lived down being beaten down like that by a little old lady with her cane. He helped to photograph and gather evidence from the scene. They had nearly gathered everything they were going to get when Grissom demanded he go home.

"We've pretty much have everything we are going to get here. Why don't you go home and put some ice on that eye and come back tomorrow."

"but…"

"No, go home. You've probably got a concussion. We'll call you if we get anything." Nick sighed. He'd lost this battle, but Grissom was right, he did have a concussion.

"Alright, I'll be in tomorrow. Oh, and you'll probably find my fingerprints and maybe some hairs. I spent the night here a day or two ago." Gil nodded and watched Stokes head out to his car. His thoughts were a million miles away, a distance he hoped wasn't smaller than Greg was to him. He couldn't get the images out of his head. He feared for his friend. What kind of trouble was his closest friend, Greg had gotten into. He prayed that Greg would be alive.

**A/N: So what do you think for the second chapter? Let me know!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Here it is for you, packaged all pretty. I must say how happy I am, already I'm at 13 reviews, I've never had such a good turnout, keep up the good work! Enjoy the chapter. Oh and someone mentioned that since I had fifteen chapters, why on earth don't i post them and why I waited, it's simple, I get lots of chapters backed up before I start posting so that if I hit writer's block for a bit, you still get chapters and I still have time to work through the block, and everyone is happy. See isn't that genius! Okay so let me know what you think of this chapter!**

Chapter 3

It was dark, and cold. He could feel his body shivering slightly. He felt detached. He knew it was cold, dark, and that he was shivering, but he didn't feel it, he just knew it. Slowly, his body came together. He no longer felt like he was floating, but he still drifted. A dull ache crept into his body, centered at his head. His head felt heavy, his thoughts sluggish and foggy at best. He shivered again. Was it just him or was the room really really cold. He wasn't sure which he would prefer. Probably the room being this cold, otherwise there was something wrong with him. _Where am I? What happened?_ Slowly he tried to move. His head exploded in pain, the dull ache gone, pure agony taking its place. He tried to bring his hands to cradle his head but he couldn't move them. He sluggishly realized they were tied behind his back. _Why are my hands tied? What happened?_ He thought hard about what he remembered last.

A man. A really big man. He was in his apartment, getting food. He'd come back from an arrest, an important arrest. The witness, he'd found the witness from that shred of evidence. They uncovered a crime ring that was rising in power, the crimes escalating.

_You were a real pain today….Because of you we watched an important person get locked away._

The man's words echoed in his mind. Panic seized him. The photos of all the victims that had gotten in the ring's path flashed through his mind. He struggled to sit up, he had to get free. He couldn't breath. The gag he now noticed was choking him. He gulped in lungs full of air but it was never enough. He was suffocating. He trembled violently, the fear consuming him. They were going to kill him. He'd gotten in their way and now he was going to die. _But if they wanted me dead, then why am I still alive?_ There must be some reason why they didn't kill him before. _The witness. They know about the witness. And…and I know who the witness is._ The realization hit him like a punch in the gut.

Greg was oblivious to his hyperventilating or that he was trembling, his vision blurred with tears. He had to get out of here. He had to escape. They weren't going to kill him. They were going to do so much worse. Would he be able to hold out? Was he going to betray the witness? He didn't know where they were, but he certainly knew who. That's all they would need. They had the resources to hunt down anyone, they only needed to know who it was. He curled up, trying to become as small as possible. He hoped if he was so small they wouldn't notice he was there. He was invisible. He had to be. It was the only way to survive. He thought suddenly of his friends. Did they know he was gone? Did they realize that something was wrong? That he'd been kidnapped. He truly hoped so. Nick. Nick will find me. He'll stop them before they kill me. He will find me. Nick, and Grissom, and Warrick, Sara, and Catherine. They'll all find me! He gave a yelp when a hand grabbed him by his hair, pulling him to his feet.

He winced, the hairs pulling free from his scalp. His legs were like jelly beneath him. He tried in vain to lock his knees but he could barely move them at all. The man laughed as he squirmed desperately to get free. He could feel his limbs growing heavy again. He felt so tired. He must still be under the influence of whatever they drugged him with. After a few more minutes of pitiful squirming he hung limply from his hair. The man smiled viciously.

"You're awake. Good, the boss wants to talk to you." a shudder raked up his spine. They were beginning. It was too soon. They couldn't start yet. He wasn't ready. He couldn't do this. He looked around frantically for an escape. He prayed for Nick to burst through the door. Or anyone, he didn't care so long as he was saved before he reached his destination. It didn't happen. No one came to rescue him. There was no escape from here. It was a hallway with only one door at the end. He tried to pull back from the man's firm grip on his arm but the man was so much bigger and stronger than him.

The man yanked him forward in rebuttal. The only thing that kept him standing was the man's iron grip. He stifled a whimper as the man opened the door and pushed him into a chair. He then stood menacingly behind him, well out of his line of sight, but he could see his overwhelming shadow cast over him. And it scared him to death. It took all of his focus to keep from visibly trembling. He didn't want the to see his terror. Let them think he's braver than this, stronger too. Another man entered the room quietly, closing the door behind him. He wasn't like the behemoth that stood over him. He was a muscular, well toned, much like Nick, except he was bigger, more burly. He smiled at him.

"I'm glad to see you awake. I've been looking forward to a good conversation." Greg shuddered. His eyes were cold. Cold and evil. Greg was struggling to keep from hyperventilating again. He had barely got it under control last time. He tried to hide the fear in his eyes, but he knew that he was failing miserably. The only thing he did manage was to not tremble. The man gave him a sideways glance, with a devilish grin as he pulled on two black leather gloves. When the man spoke Greg jumped with alarm. The man chuckled.

"Now that you are awake. We can have a little chat. Now it's clear to me that you're new at this so I'll start off simple. I ask you a question and you answer." The man behind him silently removed the gag. Greg gulped and took in an unimpeded breath through his mouth.

"W-where am I?" the man in front backhanded him painfully. Greg saw stars circling for a moment.

"I ask the questions. Now. What's your name? He remained silent. He didn't want to answer questions. His mind felt paralyzed he couldn't, wouldn't say anything. The man leisurely held a hunting knife in his hands and began twirling it, making it do cartwheels from finger to finger with a smoothness of a well oiled machine. Greg couldn't help but watch, the knife glinting brightly in the light. Every now and then the man would toss it in the air gracefully, catching it and beginning to twirl it again without missing a beat. Greg gulped again, unable to look away from the sharp looking knife. He suppressed another shudder. The man stopped. He still stared at the menacing knife.

"Now Gregory, I know you are new at this, so I'll give you a second chance, and only a second chance, there are no thirds here. So, what's you're name Gregory?" Greg opened and closed his moth, repeating the action one last time before gaining his voice.

"G-Greg"

"Greg what?" he wasn't able to answer fast enough this time. The man grabbed a fist full of hair, yanking his head back as far as it would go. "GREG WHAT? ANSWER ME WHEN I SPEAK TO YOU!"

"Greg, Greg Sanders" The man let go of his hair sharply and slugged him in the chest with two successive blows with such a ferocity that the only thing that kept the chair from falling back was the man standing behind it. Greg wheezed from the blows. The man waited for him to stop coughing before addressing him again. His voice was strangely calm, all evidence of his rage only moments ago completely gone. Greg looked down at his own feet. He couldn't bring himself to look the man in the eye.

"Now that I know you're name. What do you do?"

"I-I'm a CSI."

"And what is a CSI exactly?" He didn't give Greg a chance to answer. He'd opened his mouth to answer but was silenced by a vicious punch to the chest again.

"A crime scene investigator. I gather and analyze the evidence from the crime scene." he wheezed. He squeezed his eyes shut from the growing pain in his chest. It hurt to breathe. Taking a slow, deep, but painful breath he looked straight into the man's eyes. The man smiled placidly at him. He felt like he couldn't breathe. This was a man that was so much more frightening then any horror film or gangster film he'd seen. This was real. He was really here and they were true evil. This time, he was able to hold the man's gaze, though it took every ounce of strength.

"So CSI Greg. You're kind of like the brains of the operation. The others, they do the grunt work, and you put the pieces together." He took the blade of the knife running it across Greg's cheek lightly, laughing at the boy's shiver. He continued to caress his skin with the knife, pressing it firmer with each stroke, but being cautious not to pierce the skin, yet.

"W-why are you d-doing this?" The man slipped the knife down to his throat, sliding it down the length of his neck, the blade biting into his skin. He couldn't hold back the hiss of pain or the grimace as he felt the sickly warm blood drip onto his collar.

"I saw you the other night. Watching as they led him away. He was really useful to me, and now because of you, he's in lock up. You got in my way. All of you got in my way. I needed to find a way to remove this little…_obstacle_ from my path." Greg's eyes went wide. The man brushed the knife across his chin, letting the blade leave deep knick in his flesh, reveling at the kid's labored breathing. He was on the verge of a panic attack.

"W-w-what are y-you going to d-do?" He didn't want to know. Why did he ask. Please don't let the man answer. No such luck.

"Well, I already told you that I watched you that stormy night. Well, unlike your oblivious self, I saw something, something very useful. I saw how your two friends stood protectively between you an my man as he was taken away. I saw the way they gripped their guns when he looked you in the eye as he walked. You're like a brother to them, and you didn't even see it…but I did."

"No" he didn't know what he was saying no to, but he was saying no.

"I saw my opportunity. You and your little grunts got in my way, stole away someone very important. Then I saw how they guarded you, eagerly stood between you and anything they considered a danger to you. I saw a way to get many things accomplished. Through you I get everything I want."

"N-no, you won't! They won't give you anything!" his voice shook as he spoke.

"Ahh, my poor poor Gregory. Who said anything about negotiations?" he never had a chance to respond as punch after punch slammed his chest and stomach. The resounding thuds sickened him, he sagged forward, unable to hold himself upright. His vision was graying around the edges, dark spots dancing before his eyes when the blows stopped. The guard half carried, half dragged him back to the cell. The man let him sink to his knees, still holding his shoulder he slapped on a single handcuff to each ankle. Greg could see a bar at the end of the cuffs on his ankles that led to the wall, preventing him from bringing his legs closer to the wall.

He yelped at being pushed backwards at the shoulder, the cuffs being replaced by a new set of cuffs that were attached where the floor met the wall by two miniscule chain links. He whimpered as the restraints bit in to his wrists, the pull on his arms was near unbearable, and his legs were screaming at him as the muscles were forced to over-stretch. He could just barely lean against the wall with his shoulders but they had him stretched so tightly that leaning against the wall didn't relieve the pain in his legs or his shoulders. The man's words echoed through his mind. They weren't going to negotiate. They probably weren't going to make contact of any kind. But, if they weren't negotiating, was he here as leverage? He had to be. What other purpose would they have for him besides finding the identity of the witness? Did they know about the witness?

He sat in the engulfing darkness, trembling from fear and unbearable pain. A feeble grip on consciousness. The silence was haunting, a monster looming over him, reminding him every second that it remained. For every second that his body throbbed, his grip of consciousness easing a way just a bit more, that the world remained dark, and everything silent. It reminded him. He was alone.

**A/N: What'd you think? Hmmm...I'm mean I know, but hey, he's a crimelord, he's not supposed to be nice.**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Okay so here is the next chapter. You can expect double updates on Tuesdays because my Wensdays are booked and I just can't make you people suffer. But I perfectly capable of making Greg, and his many friends suffer. Let me know what you think!**

Chapter 4

Nick paced. He'd been pacing. He was still pacing. He would still be pacing for a long time. He was waiting. Waiting for the results. He paced in circles around a nameless lab tech. It should have been Greg. It should have been Greg he was circling, but it wasn't, couldn't be. He had gone home earlier, for a while. He'd taken a shower, got hopped up on headache medicine while examining the bruises on his back and leg. They were somewhat serious, but he wasn't telling anybody. He would make sure they didn't impede with his work. He had to find Greg. He was going bonkers not knowing if he was even alive. He had to be alive. So far they'd eliminated the possibility of getting fingerprints. There weren't any hairs or blood--which was somewhat comforting to Nick--and no shoe prints. As of yet, they didn't have anything. That was what led to the conclusion that whoever had taken Greg was a professional. They had come and gone without leaving a single clue to their identity.

He had to do something. He left in a huff. He had to do something. He didn't know what he was going to do he just couldn't be sitting, or standing still. Griss had been fine with him leaving. There wasn't anything for him to do anyways. He found himself driving in a trance, unaware of where he was going. At first he'd just been driving around, deep in thought. He just let all the images of Greg run wild. He didn't want to give in to them, but he hoped if he got them out of his system now he could move past them and focus on finding him.

He was oblivious to parking the car, walking into a store he didn't know the name of. Oblivious to the items he was tossing into the cart. He was oblivious to all but the fact the Greg was gone. Those three words screamed in his ears. Greg was gone. He had to find him. It wasn't until he was unloading the items that he bought that he truly saw what he'd bought. Two bottles of peroxide, a boat load of Tylenol, Advil, and Aspirin, bandages, tape, band-aids, thermal blankets, he even bought an oxygen mask with two portable tanks. The items were a testament to how truly afraid for Greg he was. He bit back the tears. He wouldn't give up. He wouldn't stop. He _would_ find his closest friend, Greg.

--oo0oo--

His head rolled from side to side doing little up and down circles on the wall. He was so tired, it was getting harder to breathe like this. He tried to take deep, slow breaths, but the awkward stretch forced him to breath shallowly, the muscles in his side pulling painful no matter how shallow the breath. At first he'd tried to clench and release his muscles to try and ease the pain but it only made it worse so he fought to remain perfectly still. He was feeling dizzy. Though he was getting air, he knew it wasn't enough, and felt light headed. He tried to keep his mind occupied on happy things like his Blue Hawaiian coffee, anything but his present circumstances. If it weren't for the fact that he physically couldn't achieve it, he would be hyperventilating himself to unconsciousness. _Perhaps I should try anyways, unconsciousness is looking pretty good right now._ At first he'd tried to hyperventilate, he even got the buzz in the head as a result, but the pain was too much to continue, yet cruelly not enough to cause him to pass out.

Time stood still. He had no concept of its passage. He had stopped shaking, out of exhaustion only. He had his eyes closed and would open them every now and then to see if he'd wake from this nightmare. He never did. He struggled with the handcuffs in desperation, his wrists now bleed in reward. He froze when he heard the door open, eyes snapping shut fearfully. Perhaps they would think he was unconscious. He was wrong, they didn't care whether he was asleep, unconscious, or pretending. He gasped, air forced from his lungs, unable to draw in a new breath. Bleary, watery eyes reveal the butt of a rifle pulling away from his stomach.

"Hello Greg. I hoped you were comfortable while I was gone?" Greg remained silent, clenching his jaw in anger. Better to remain silent then to get smart and anger them, right? Wrong. The man with the rifle slammed it into his stomach again. By the time he was able to draw another breath it was only to wheeze painfully, forcing the tears not to spill. "Answer me when I speak to you."

"WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO SAY?" he gasped, intending to yell it.

"I want you, to answer my questions, and promptly. Can you do that?"

"Depends on what the question is." he braced for a blow to come, it didn't.

"Well then, that's sound stupidly brave. Let's see how much you can take before that forte is broken." the man leaned in close to whisper in his ear.

"_You will be broken long before I'm finished with you" _Greg closed his eyes in terror, desperately trying to gulp down the lump choking him. He kept his eyes closed. He knew something was coming, but he didn't want to see what or when. Abruptly searing hot pain ripped through his entire body. Spasms coursed through his body uncontrollably, the agonized scream echoing off the wall in his mind, though reality his teeth were clenched against his will. The cause was removed after a moment but the pain continued for another three minutes. Sobbing gasps were all that was heard for quite some time. He could feel the burned spots of skin on his ribs, opening his eyes to see them to be quite large. The man that spoke to him was staring at him calmly, a second man holding a stun gun in his hands lightly, just to the right of the man.

"Now, where is my man being held, that you got locked up the other night?" He looked at the man shakily.

"I don't know" it was the truth, he hadn't bothered to see with prison he was being sent to before his trial. He had no reason to. He screamed in his mind as the gun was pressed hard into his side, electricity ripping through his body. They held it to him longer this time. He could barely breathe, he shook all over, tears of agony streaming unchecked down his cheeks. He almost didn't hear the man speaking to him again.

"I'll ask you again. Where is he?"

"I don't know." A thick cold sweat coated his body. This time the man jab the gun against his side sending bursts of electricity through him repeatedly instead of a steady assault. It was unbearable, he couldn't decide whether the unexpected bursts were worse or not. He sobbed uncontrollably between raspy breaths.

"Where is he?" the man was eerily calm, patient, as if he were asking whether it was sunny or raining.

"I DON'T KNOW! WHY WON'T YOU BELIEVE ME?!" he could barely hold his head up, eyelids growing heavier by the second, his vision starting to gray at the edges. The man continued to stare at him, but jerked his head in a tight nod. The guard slammed the gun hard into his stomach, pressing it as deep as it would go and held it, and held, and held, and held, and held. The gun held steady. What was only a few minutes felt like hours and days before the gun was removed. For each shallow, raspy breath taken was an incredible feat accomplished. He sat there completely limp, the world completing turn -abouts. With each short gasp his world faded to black.

--oo0oo--

Nick was pacing again. He'd practically been pacing ever since they discovered Greg was missing. Grissom watched as Stokes itched his upper arm yet again. He'd been doing that, pacing and itching, pacing and itching, ever since he got back from wherever it was he'd gone to. Gil knew he hadn't gone home. He acted as if his skin didn't even fit him. Perhaps there was some literal truth to the phrase, 'itching to do something'. He wished he could help Nick. On the outside he looked calm and in control, but inside he was just like Nick, pacing, stampeding, itching to do something. But what he didn't know. There were no leads to follow. He thought for a moment then went to get two cups of coffee.

"Here, have some of this. You look like you need it." He handed a cup to Nick as he joined him in the room. Nick looked at the cup soberly. He drank the coffee but not because he wanted any but out of gratitude to Grissom.

"I need to do something. I-I can't just sit here with who knows what happening to Greg. I mean is…is he even alive?" They sat in silence for a moment, sipping their coffee, deep in thought.

"I can't tell you for sure Nicky, but I think he's still alive."

"but how can you be sure?"

"I can't. But what I am sure of is that the evidence doesn't point to him being dead, just missing." Nick nodded silently. He was sort of comforted. He supposed that it was better for Greg to be missing with so little evidence, than lots of evidence that pointed towards his death or near it. He sighed deeply, trying to calm his nerves. He fought hard to believe Grissom's words.

"What's everyone else doing?"

"Warrick decided to interview the neighboring apartment owners, Sara is pestering the lab techs to quadruple check the results and dig deeper, not that they hadn't already done everything possible, and I believe Catherine decided to rush the complex owner into releasing security footage sooner than possible." He smiled sadly, a small glimmer of hope rested in those cameras.

"That's good. If we get anything, it'll be from the cameras. The window was open so I think they left through it and down the fire escape." Gil nodded. He had lots of his hopes piled onto those cameras. He knew he shouldn't, but the emotions he kept hidden from the world were clawing free. It was only a matter of time before they broke free. He only hoped that they would have Greg back long before the emotions escaped the cage. He highly doubted he'd be able to deal with his emotions and still have to find Sanders at the same time. He would take the time for emotions after Greg was safe.

"Come on, you need to eat something. Plus you've made a trench in the floor. By the time we're back Catherine will have something for us." Nick thought about refusing, but then he realized that he really didn't have anything he could do except pace the room. He looked at the carpet and saw a lighter patch where he'd been walking. He couldn't hold back a slight chuckle. Grissom looked at what Stokes was laughing at and couldn't help but smile. He really had walked a trench into the floor.

--oo0oo--

Catherine stood beside Archie waiting impatiently as he cued up whatever it was that he'd found on the tapes. Nick, Warrick, Sara, and Grissom all stood a distance away from her keeping Archie between them. She was radiating with a stressed, impatient determination that put them all at risk if they crowded her too much or made her feel like her work was impeded. She was in a dangerous mood. Greg had become like a son she had to protect, and now he was in danger. Just like anyone that got in her way to bringing him home would be. Archie stopped fast forwarding the security footage.

"Okay here it is. This car pulls up by the fire escape an hour before Greg gets home." He fast forwarded again, the car never moving an inch. They saw Greg's SUV drive past slowly before parking out of sight. "Now we see this guy get out of the car. We didn't get any facial clues but we've got the general build. He's a behemoth." they nodded in agreement, the guy was huge. They fast forwarded again as ten minutes passed within thirty seconds. They watched again in real time. The window to Greg's apartment opened slowly, the curtains wafting in and out. Suddenly Greg was shoved through the window, landing hard on his back. They could see he was barely conscious, head lolling slightly in resistance to the sideways listing. He looked to be struggling to sit up, move, anything, but they could see that his body wasn't cooperating. The same man as earlier was now seen climbing out cautiously, not bothering to close the window behind him. He lifted Greg onto his shoulder and carried him down the stairs, shoving him into the trunk of the car and driving off.

"Did we get anything else from this?" it was Gil.

"Yeah, a license plate number"

--oo0oo--

The world was spinning. He didn't know how long he'd been unconscious, but he certainly regretted waking up. Everything hurt. He felt like he was on fire. It was sheer agony. His breathing was labored, swallowing was pure misery and he'd given up on getting relief from his awkward position. He tried to shrink deep inside himself. He just wanted to wake up from this nightmare. Waves of nausea washed over him but so far he'd managed to keep the contents of his stomach contained. He kept his eyes closed, not that it really mattered in the pitch black room. He focused on breathing in and out. It occupied his mind along with a single mantra he repeated silently desperate to keep some faint hope.

_Nick will find me. Nick will save me. Nick will find me. Nick will save me. Nick will find me. Nick will save me…._

He was so deep inside himself that he never heard the door open, or the scuffing of four shoes crossing the floor to where he sat. A blast of iced water shocked him back to alertness, sluggish as it was. He dragged his eyes up to stare at his tormentors. The guard sneered at him and the other man gazed at him serenely with a disinterest one my give to a piece of garbage in the street. His heart pounded against his ribs, blood rushing through his ears so audaciously he could barely hear the man speak to him. He took as deep of a breath as his body would allow trying to calm his heart. He could see the man's lips move but the words were garbled. Another shock of water blasted him just as he drew a breath. Flesh tearing coughs racked through his body, struggling to expel the water from his windpipe until he could barely draw a breath his sides pained him so.

"Who do you work with?" Greg frowned. They'd already asked this.

"CSI" the man frowned with a subtle nod. The guard kicked him hard in the ribs three or four times. The man huffed with a resigned sigh.

"Who are your co-workers?" he emphasized co-workers as if he were speaking to a simpleton.

"Grissom" the man scowled when he gave only one name. The kicks returned viciously. Greg screamed as he heard and felt each rib break with an audible snap. Tears streamed down his face, the pain sent the room spinning, white and black spots dancing before his eyes, and the bile burning its way up his esophagus. Perfectly synchronized the kicks stopped and he immediately lurched as far forward as the restraints allowed, retching full force. The men waited as he continued to dry heave before slumping backwards utterly exhausted, his vision severely grayed.

"Tell me everybody to work for." he could hear the impatience leak into each word.

"Grissom, Catherine, Nick, Warrick, and Sidle." they were barely hoarse whispers.

"And that is _everyone?"_ he nodded hastily. "Good. Oh and next time I ask you a question. Give me the whole answer the first time." The man pressed the stun gun hidden behind his back hard against Greg, holding it steady long and hard. The pain ripped through him like nothing he could believe for what felt like eternity before the world collapsed.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Okay people, here is chapter 5! Yay! So be just as nice as before and review for me!**

Chapter 5

Early morning of day three. Stokes was glaring at the manila file. They'd found a license plate, of a stolen car. It'd been reported stolen four weeks ago. They had an APB out for the car but so far no one had seen it. He drained the cup of coffee yet again. He'd lost count of how many cups of this…mud, he'd drunk. It was probably the only thing keeping him awake. He refilled the cup, again, putting as much sugar as possible into the mix. It tasted terrible despite the sugar, reminding him of Greg and the great Blue Hawaiian coffee he would make them. He swallowed hard, blinking back the tears of desperation that threatened to spill. He went back to the file, flipping thoroughly through each piece of evidence before slamming the file closed. Suddenly unable to hold the tears back he made a hasty escape to the restroom, locking the door behind him.

He slammed his head backwards on the door forcefully and let himself slide to sit on the floor, back against the door. Drawing his knees to his chest he wrapped his arms around his legs and rested his forehead on top of his knees, hot salty tears burning down his cheeks unchecked. Never had he felt so frustratingly useless. There was again nothing that he could do to find Greg. He was useless, only there to look at old useless files and drink mud. If he could only have a clue, a shred of evidence that actually led to more evidence he'd be okay, but this, this waiting, he couldn't do it. He sat there for a long time, his emotions running wild. Shakily he stood up and put his head under running water in the sink. The cold water helped calm him down, his breathing back to normal, and slowly, very slowly, erased all trace of tears. He looked at his reflection. His exhaustion showed in the dark circles under his eyes, with a very slight red rim, nothing truly noticeable though, and he had this kicked puppy, miserable look about him.

He sighed, knowing that he couldn't hide in here forever. Wearily he unlocked the door to find Grissom standing there.

"Feel better?" Nick stood, shocked at first, staring at Gil. How did he always know?

"A little"

"Good, this will help. We found the stolen car. I want you to process it." Nick smiled. That was something he could definitely do. Perhaps he wasn't so useless after all. He sped towards where the car was located, sirens blaring, his eagerness could be tasted in the air. The SUV had barely parked before he was jumping out with his kit. The car was in a back parking lot at a McDonalds. The lot appeared to be for busy days to handle overflow. He started snapping picture after picture, tire tracks, cigarettes, anything that could be connected with the car. He printed every surface of the car, collected hairs, searched every nook and cranny for any kind if evidence. He bagged all the evidence he'd collected and hours later he had the car delivered to the garage where he would do even more. But for now he was speeding back to headquarters to get this evidence processed. He _would_ find Greg!

--oo0oo--

He was so tired. Everything hurt. He didn't know how much further he could sink into himself. He squirmed weakly, desperate for a different position. He had to move, this was torture. The agony flared with every minute movement but he couldn't stand it. He bit back the pain he was causing. He had to do something, anything to get relief. Suddenly he was falling sideways. The immobile cuffs didn't budge and he screamed when he felt his wrist snap. He lay on his side sobbing from this new pain for some time, eventually settling to sucking in shuddering breaths. He shifted again, his legs stretching out some. He froze. He could move his legs! Slowly, painfully he stretched his legs out, hissing at each tiny shift, screaming at larger movements. At first he had to work at keeping his legs the same distance from the wall, but once he got far enough, the poles now lined up parallel to the wall instead of perpendicular.

His legs jumped and twitched from the feeling of spiders biting and crawling all along his legs as the blood rushed with the feeling down into his legs again. It was sheer agony. He clenched and unclenched painfully trying to rush the pins and needles along in their business. An eternity passed before the pain and twitching slowly ebbed away until his legs felt normal again. He stretched and moved his legs slowly, tediously working out the numerous cramps that had accumulated as best he could with his limited mobility. Having something to do, even if it was just shifting his legs two inches to the left and right, gave him a distraction and helped time to move in a sluggish sort of way.

It was far easier to bear than when it felt like time stood still around him. He counted the repetitions of stretching and bending. He practiced his multiplication factors, anything to keep his mind occupied now that he wasn't focusing solely on the pain. Currently he'd gone through his multiplication twice up to thirteen and was now silently singing the alphabet song to himself. At times, if he focused hard enough, he could literally taste his Blue Hawaiian coffee and when he opened his eyes he could see himself back in the lab. No cuffs, no burns scattered across his abdomen, no broken ribs or wrist, just him fully mobile and free, with the friends that had become family to him. He felt the lump forming in his throat and the familiar burn of tears forming at the thought of his home.

He nearly jumped when the door opened again, intruding on his self induced hallucination. He was vaguely aware of the guard unlocking his ankles, and the faint laughing being poorly stifled. Suddenly he was mad. He was enraged. He was not going to be the victim. He was going to fight. It took every ounce of strength to lay there limply, hissing in pain as his wrists were manhandled out of the handcuffs. He over exaggerated his sluggishness and pretended to be barely conscious. The man believed him. His hands and legs were free of any restraint. He fought the urge to make his move, it was too soon. He grunted as he was yanked to his feet, the slight sway perfectly genuine.

Greg remained silent when he was shoved against the wall, a hand holding him at the throat, firm enough to keep him standing but not enough to choke him. He silently flexed his arms, the agonizing spiders swiftly returning. He clenched his jaw and doubled his efforts to work the cramps free. He would need at least one functioning arm and soon. The man was digging in his pocket for something. He was grateful for every second that went by without him finding it. The pain started to ebb, leaving behind a dull ache, weakened feeling behind. The man brought his hand out of the pocket holding a knife. With a frightening finesse he flicked it open. Greg tried to melt into the wall. _What is he going to do with that?_ He shuddered when the flat of the blade was pressed against his skin near his neck.

"W-what are y-you doing?' the man chuckled. His anger began to boil again. These people figured he'd just roll over and die didn't they? Well they were wrong. Soon.

"The boss doesn't want you hiding any injuries. Would spoil his fun" Greg's heart skipped a beat and went thundering as the knife was dragged down his torso, the sound of threads snapping and buttons clattering to the floor echoed. Once the last button fell he whipped him around, the side of his face squished painfully against the wall. His arms still felt weak and he knew that his left arm would be near useless from snapping his wrist, but it would have to be enough. He tried to struggle as the man pulled off his shirt, tossing it to the floor like garbage. He could hear the man grumbling something about his undershirt and found himself being pulled away from the wall. The man's had slipped inside the front of his shirt, the knife hooking onto the collar of the shirt and the dragging downwards, the shirt soon joining its partner on the floor.

"Better" Greg saw his chance. The man had grabbed his left arm whipping him around. He used the momentum, swinging his fist as hard as he could landing it square on the guy's nose. Blood spurted with an audible crunch, the man shouting out in surprise. Greg thrust his knee into the guy's gut. The man doubled over. Greg made run for the door.

--oo0oo--

Nick was pacing again. But this time it was for results, not uselessness. He'd spent hours working the car. He'd never been so thorough in his life. No one had even bothered to try and make him take a break. He'd promised everyone that he would stop and get a few hours sleep and eat lots of food once he'd finished with the car. He'd partially lied. He was supposed to be eating and sleeping this very minute, instead he was pacing as a nameless lab tech processed the partial print they'd gotten from the car. He couldn't help it. They'd gotten something from the car and it was impossible for him to quit now just to take a nap and have a bite to eat. He paused in his pacing for a moment to glare menacingly at the tech. Thoroughly intimidated the tech worked more quickly.

He began to pace again. He couldn't stand this, this waiting, it was horrible. He kept throwing menacing glances at the tech. The poor person was desperately trying to make the machines work faster, but they only had a partial print. He was grumbling to himself in general over everything, but the poor frightened tech was sure he was growling at him. He had a look of utter salvation as Grissom came into the room.

"Nicky, you promised to get some rest after you were done with the car." Nick stared at him disbelieving.

"You c-can't be serious? I got a partial print. It could tell us who has Greg. I can't just leave now." Gil looked at him coolly.

"Yes and if you do find a match you'll have to research the background, if you don't then you'll go back to the car. It's a never ending cycle that you can't keep up with. If you don't rest you'll be dead on your feet. What good will you be to Greg then?"

Nick hung his head in defeat. He didn't want to stop, he had to find Greg, but Grissom was right. If he was dead on his feet then he was useless to everyone, especially Greg. Grissom led him out of the room, double checking that he actually followed. He watched Nicky like a hawk as he ate a meal then practically forced him onto the couch, laying a blanket over him. He waited until he knew for sure that he was asleep, which wasn't long since he was exhausted despite his efforts, before returning to what he was doing, Nicky deep asleep on the couch.

--oo0oo--

He lay there as still as possible. He never wanted to move again. He resided in a world of pain, his least favorite of all worlds. If it weren't for the pain he would have been sure he were dead. Not a bad idea from his point of view. He tried to curl away from the pain, gripping his side, trying to stop the bleeding. He was overwhelmingly grateful that they had uncuffed him when they brought him back. He looked down at his blurry hands. They were holding the remnants of his shirt against the wound. The blood stain wasn't growing any larger, that he could see. That had to be good, didn't it? He could feel himself shaking slightly. Slowly, painfully he pushed himself to sit up, leaning against the wall dizzily, as far from the cuffs attached to the wall as possible. He never wanted to see them again.

At some point he fell asleep not meaning to, but he was so tired and it was actually restful now that he could sit comfortably. He doubted he would have woken soon if he hadn't heard a loud ruckus. He could hear men shouting and doors slamming. Everything was eerily silent for a moment then he could hear the sounds of engines roaring to life and driving off. Everything deathly silent. In the silence he assessed his physical condition again. It wasn't a pretty sight. Just about every body part had some form of injury, but he felt oddly more rested. Rested enough to shakily climb to his feet and limp over to the window. At first he'd never even noticed that there was a window in this room, but then it hadn't really matter until now. He'd never had any form of mobility, until now. He leaned against the wall his good hand, looking outside.

It was dark, very dark. I couldn't see anything outside except thick black clouds. I looked at the blurry windowsill. I really wished I could see more clearly. I felt so tired. I shouldn't have been able to stand let alone walk, but I was determined to live. This was not how I wanted to die. I had to get out. My hopes sank as I found the window nailed shut effectively. Even at one hundred percent, I wouldn't be able to pry the nails free. I tapped the glass gently, surprised at how thin it was.

He felt a small spark of hope. I hobbled back to where my shirts had been left. He wrapped both tightly around his right fist clumsily, the pain of using his other wrist dizzying, but it had to be done. Once I had several thick layers protecting my fist I hobbled back to the window. Taking a deep breath and holding it I punched the window with all the strength I could muster. The concussion was jarring but I was unscathed. It was slow going but soon I'd punched out as much of the glass as possible. There was still some in the corners and small jagged shards spotting the frame, but the work had been exhausting and I didn't know how much time I had left.

I unwrapped my wrist laying the tattered shirts over the shards on the window. I doubted that if any significant weight were put on them that the shirts would do anything, but I had to try, they weren't really any good for anything else now. I took a cluster of deep breaths. I wasn't shaking anymore but I wasn't sure whether I could consider that good or bad. I took a deep breath and tossed myself out the window expecting the ground to come up quickly. It didn't. He was sailing through the air, wind whipping through his hair. Confusion overtook me, and suddenly. I hit the ground.

--oo0oo--

Nick could dully hear someone calling his name and shaking him lightly at first, but now it was getting rougher by the second when he ignored them. The world slowly came into focus and he realized it was Grissom. Blearily he opened his eyes, the world refocused. Grissom was waking him up. When had he fallen asleep? Greg!

"Greg! Did you find him?" Grissom's eyes saddened.

"No, but we're done with the evidence you bagged. I thought you'd want to be awake for the meeting." Nick couldn't hide his disappointment. He would rather have Greg back. He splashed some cold water on his face, the shock bringing him back to full alertness. When he stepped out of the restroom, Grissom was waiting for him. They made the trek in silence. Both were exhausted. When they came into the office they found Warrick and Sara in the middle of a very heated argument and Catherine had moved to intervene. Nick just sank into a chair, oblivious to the fight that Grissom was now trying to extinguish and failing miserably. He really didn't care what they were fighting about or that they were fighting at all, as long as they left him out of it. The only person that heard Nicks phone ring was Nick. He answered it tiredly and suddenly flew out of his chair to stand.

"Greg!" the world stopped.

"N-N-Nick?" the voice was very faint, and shaky.

"Greg, Greg, where are you?" the silence was ominous.

"D-don't k-know, so cold, d-d-did y-you get it?" Nick could hear Greg's breathing was labored through the phone.

"No." suddenly he could hear Greg hacking and wheezing a wet sounding cough the wouldn't stop. A minute must have passed before he stopped. "Greg, Greg are you okay" he knew the answer, but maybe he could get specifics.

"N-no" he sounded so small, so vulnerable the single sob was heart wrenching.

"Greg." no answer. "Greg, Greg! Answer me!"

"So….tired…need to….sleep" his voice was fading fast. Everyone stared at Nick anxiously.

"No Greg! Greg, stay awake buddy. Stay with me!" Nick felt his blood boil. _What did they do to him?! _

"S'tired" Nick could barely hear him. He was definitely barely holding onto consciousness.

"I know you're tired but I need you to stay awake okay?"

" 'Kay" Nick grabbed a pen and paper ready to jot things down.

"Greg, look around you, what do you see?" there was silence at first and Nick was afraid that he'd lost him.

"Umm...lots of hills, smell the ocean…trees…a sign….says….rose 'think…can't really tell…can hear s'lions…waves….s'all blurry." Greg's speech was slurring badly but Nick formed the words clearly in his mind, he hoped. Greg rolled his eyes around as best he could. It hurt so much. He just wanted to close his eyes and sleep. Why wouldn't Nick let him sleep?

He was so tired, so cold. He looked down at his feet. The left leg stuck out of the phone booth awkwardly, he couldn't move it. The other leg was bent slightly, just barely able to count as inside the booth. Nick was saying something but he couldn't hear what he was saying. His voice sounded so distant. Suddenly a heavy foot slammed into his left leg. Pain exploded through his entire body, he screamed, the clatter of the phone on the booth walls a distant echo.

"Greg! Greg!" His heart stopped when he'd heard Greg scream. What was going on? He could hear the loud thuds and he could hear Greg whimpering. His heart broke in two at the sound. He could also hear a man yelling at Greg.

"WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING JUMPING OUT OF A SECOND STORY WINDOW! THAT WAS STUPID! YOU AREN'T WORTH THE TROUBLE!" There was a whole litany of other comments made but Nick couldn't and was sure he didn't want to distinguish them. Suddenly there was a second, perfectly calm voice, speaking reason.

"Finish this later. We need to get him back. The boss is mad enough that he got away in the first place. He was far from finished with the boy as it is. Now hurry, help me load him in the truck." he could hear a few grunts then a loud thump then that awful dial tone. His connection to Greg was gone.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Okay people, here is the next chapter for my faithful readers(I've never had such devotion on a story before) I feel loved. Anyways, there is a squemish alert in this chapter, if you cannot or do no like violence, this is not the chapter for you, you have been warned. We are getting to find out what happened before Greg's escape attempt. Enjoy the chapter!**

Chapter 6

All he could do was stare. He felt the rage boiling within him. Unbearable fear. They had said they were far from finished with him. He could hear the whimpering echoing through his head. Slowly the world came back. He could hear his friends asking him questions, but he couldn't answer. He could still hear Greg, crying out in pain. He could feel his hands begin to shake as he slumped back into his chair. He'd lost him, again. He blinked suddenly, time erupting around him back into normalcy, or as close to that as it could possibly be at these times.

"Nick…Nick…" he looked up suddenly. They all stared at him, none trying to mask the concern in their expressions. He took a deep breath.

"They found him. They found him again." Everyone knew what that meant. He looked at the notepad of jumbled words he'd written. _hills….ocean…sea lions…sign that says Rose…two story building…window…truck…two men._ It was quite a mix. He knew one thing, Greg wasn't in Las Vegas. From what Greg had told him, he would be in San Francisco.

"Nick, what did Greg say?" It was Catherine this time.

"Not much. This is what he saw around him. We should expect a package of some kind soon."

"Is…Is he okay?"

"No" his voice was flat. he got up unable to answer anymore questions and went to Archie's for a trace on his phone. He didn't know what else to do. Something told him that that wouldn't be the last phone call he would be receiving from Greg. The one thing he did know, was he would never be able to shake the sounds of Greg whimpering in pain. He entered the lab in a haze, unaware of his surroundings. Archie knew immediately that something more was wrong than what had recently been happening.

"Nick, are you okay? Nick?" he looked up suddenly. The look in his eyes was almost overwhelming. He had to swallow the lump in his throat. There was such a sadness and desperation in his eyes.

"I-I need you to put a trace on my phone." Archie nodded.

"Was it Greg?" he asked softly, not wanting to push Nick. He didn't look as if he could handle it.

"Yeah" he whispered, nodding softly.

"What happened?" Nick was silent for a moment, still holding the phone like it were about to shatter.

"He….He sounded so…so vulnerable. I-I think they hurt him real bad." Archie could see the fear in his eyes. He hoped Nick was wrong, but he knew he wasn't. Archie bit his lip for a moment looking for the right words.

"Greg is a strong person. If anyone can make it through this it'll be Greg. He'll bounce back." Nick tried to believe, but he'd _heard_ the call.

"But…but…they said…" he couldn't finish.

"What did they say Nick?" he was starting to get scared for Greg more than he had before. It must have been bad if Nick was this speechless.

"They said that they were far from finished with him. That he'd jumped out of a two story window. How much can he take? He…he sounded so confused…so scared." Archie silently took the phone determined to find Greg now more than ever. The silence was thick.

"We will find him Nick. We're the best. We won't leave him behind. We. Will. Find. Greg." Nick looked Archie hard in the face, looking for strength. He felt a small spark of hope and determination rekindled. He smiled weakly.

"Thanks Archie. You're right. If anyone can find him, it'll be us." He stayed with Archie for a while comforted by his presence and not quite ready to return and explain the phone call to the others. It was fifteen long minutes before he returned. The others must have known he needed the space because they never went to find him. They were looking at the notepad, discussing possible meanings and locations. At first there had been an awkward silence, but then he reiterated the story and they quickly moved on, more determined to find their friend. Sara handed out a couple of very thick files.

"The partial print matched to these people. Without a full print we won't know which one is our guy, but perhaps we could eliminate a few." they all opened their files examining the picture of the criminals.

"Well this guy is out" they all looked up at Warrick surprised that he'd eliminated his in less the thirty seconds.

"How do you know?"

"This guy is 4"2', the guy on the film was at least 6 feet." they nodded, the file tossed into a growing rejection pile. Some of the files were of other criminals that didn't match the description others were still in lock up. Nick went through every file fervently, releasing all the anger and fear into raw energy, blowing through the surprisingly large stack of possible suspects.

Someone made sure they had a fresh cup of coffee at all times and there was the constant arrival of some snackish sort of food available to them, though Nick never paid enough attention to know who was delivering but he was eternally grateful. They were about an hour into eliminating those that weren't matches and coming up with possible combinations and structures as this was clearly a group effort when Brass came into the room.

He was ominously silent and went unnoticed for a good five minutes. He didn't interrupt them, he didn't want to interrupt them. Not with this. Catherine was the first to notice that he was in the room. His pale face and down cast look set of alarm bells in her head immediately.

"Jim. What's wrong?" They all stopped, turned, and stared at him. Normally he wasn't a subdued man, but today, he couldn't keep their gaze.

"We got a package about fifteen minutes ago. There weren't any prints. It was a video tape. Figured you'd want to see it. I've already watched it. I won't watch it again." He set the tape on the table and left the room. They all stared a moment longer, afraid to see the tape.

Nick was the first to move. Picking up the tape and moving to a television. He gave everyone a look of leave now or see the worst. They all stayed. Nick pushed the tape into the machine and sank back into his chair. He'd heard Greg on the phone and knew this would be bad. Especially since a label with black ink had been on the tape. This had been filmed two hours before Greg had called him. It made him sick.

It started out with a black screen and the quiet hiss, their only clue that it was running. Abruptly it flared to life, the image of a man off to the left a little, sitting placidly in a wooden chair, with black jeans and a black long sleeve shirt and dress shoes. He had a black ski mask with darkly tinted glasses. They would never get a facial identification. He looked like he was having a pleasant conversation among friends. It made their blood boil.

"Good afternoon Gil, Nick, Warrick, Sara, and Catherine. You may call me James. No that isn't my real name and has absolutely no connection to me or those around me. As I would hope you've noticed by now. Your precious Greg Sanders has been kidnapped. If not, then you're too stupid to deserve a mind like his. He's been a guest of my residence for a few days now, but of course you'll want proof he's alive. That's fine. My associates are fetching him now." At that moment they heard a man yell.

"HE'S LOOSE!" instantly Greg's slim figure darted into the room and out of sight beyond the camera. They could hear a loud scuffle and shouts. It sounded as if Greg was doing well. Suddenly James gave an exaggerated sigh, pulled out a revolver, spun the barrel for a moment before snapping it shut and the scuffle blasted to silence. Sara dropped the file she'd been holding and Warrick swore under his breath. Nick couldn't speak and Gil was desperately trying to remain composed.

"Good, now that that is settled." Catherine choked a cry of relief when they saw Greg enter the screen again. He was limping heavily, listing greatly to the left, the only thing preventing him from doubling over was the fierce grip the man had on his hair, holding him upright. They could see blood seeping from somewhere on his leg, but not the exact location. The man turned them so they faced the camera once they were next to James. He was holding a fist in front of Greg's side, fairly high up. His fist twisted sharply and Greg crumbled to his knees with a cry of pain, as the man withdrew a bloody knife from is side and walked away. Before they could get a good look at him Greg doubled over, his forehead pressed hard against the floor. They could hear his labored breathing beneath his whimpers.

He remained there for a full two minutes. The longest two minutes in all their lives. Sara's lip quivered violently, the tears threatening to spill. There was a whole litany of unrepeatable words beneath Warrick's breath, Nick wasn't breathing, and Gil was beginning to lose his fought for composure, a slight shake of rage now visible.

"That's long enough Greggo, they need to see you." he grabbed a fistful of Greg's hair and yanked him up again causing him to cry out. A collective gasp echoed the room. He'd been gagged tightly. His face was a mass of bruises, his eye nearly swollen shut. He had deep cuts and nicks all along his jaw and chin, little trails for dried blood. There was a slit running down the length of his throat, crossed by a slit running across his throat horizontally both with their remnants of dried blood. His shirt had been removed revealing the dozens of dark blue, purple and black bruises that were grossly large all over his torso. Over a dozen horrific burns smattered across his abdomen the smallest the size of quarters, the largest looked that they might cover half a dollar bill. The man rose slowly from his chair with a maddening leisure.

Not releasing his fistful of hair he walked in front of his captor to stand beside him. Greg's eyes were wide with fear, and they couldn't be sure, but they thought they saw a small hint of rage and determination. If he got a chance. He would run again. He was breathing hard and labored, still trying to curl in on the newly acquired stab wound, prevented only by James' powerful grip. He was visibly trying to pull free but the was easily held firm. He knelt down beside Greg, lightly grabbing one of his wrists. Greg stifled a gasp as the pain blossomed. This was noticed by the CSI's but it was also seen by James.

"Now, I know you folks can't see it over there, but this left wrist of his," James' arm flexed and jerked suddenly in a rough motion. Greg screamed through the gag, lurching as far as James would allow, eyes screwed shut in pain, breathing heavily, "is clearly broken." he gave the wrist a sharp twist before letting go. The scream was shorter but far more intense this time. James yanked him back up again and let go this time, he swayed dizzily. The pained tears rained down, his eyes glazing with pain, pleading for salvation. James returned to his chair lazily. His every movement screamed that he didn't care. This was just an evening stroll through the park.

"I've been having some good conversations with Greggo here. Though he's been a little reluctant. That will change. But that's between us. You have another task. There are things that I want and need done. Cooperating with me will buy your friend time to live. No doubt you are finding me hard to find or even identify. That's because it's impossible. The only thing you can do for Greg is obey my demands. It will never guarantee him good health, only a few more hours, maybe a day more of life." Greg had mustered enough strength to glare menacingly at his captor in blunt defiance unwilling to be totally subdue yet. After James finished his statement he glanced casually at his victim. Suddenly his leg whipped out a vicious kick connected squarely across the side of his face. Greg fell sideways with a cry landing hard on his side.

"Never glare at me Gregory. I hold your life in my hands. I'm dangerous." Greg chose to glare at the floor instead. James gave a sharp nod to someone behind the camera. They came forward swiftly and without hesitation kicked Greg hard in the stomach. Again and again and again he kicked Greg all over his stomach and chest without reprieve. Greg screamed desperately trying to curl into a protective ball but the force of each kick pushed him back to where he started. Nick counted the kicks involuntarily. It was around fifteen horrid kicks than the man paused, lifting Greg up by his hair until he could reach the broken wrist. He took a firm grasp, reveling in the hiss of pain. Swiftly he shoved Greg back to the ground with the fistful of hair, twisting his secure grip on the wrist murderously in the opposite direction of the fall, wrenching it with all his strength.

Greg screamed a blood curdling scream until he was out of breath drawing a quick breath unable to stop the second scream. The man hovered over him reveling in the weak whimpers he was rewarded with. He waited a moment before the kicks began again. It seemed like an eternity before James held up a silent hand, stopping the attack.

"That's your last subtle warning. I. Mean. Business." The last thing they saw before the screen went dark was Greg, limp on the floor. Barely breathing, fighting desperately to remain conscious, his eyes thickly glazed in agony, the fear ever present. Tears prominently mocking their desperation. His lids drooped heavily only to lift then fall again, his head actually lifting heavily off the floor for a few seconds. Suddenly his eyes rolled back into his head, his head collapsing to the floor with a thud. The battle for consciousness lost.

They stared in shock. Sara sank to her knees on the floor, her sobs echoed by Catherine's. No one could move. Never in their life…this was impossible. Warrick was the first to move. Running full tilt to the men's restroom, barely able to make it. Nick sat, trembling, the rage and frightening shock overwhelming. Numbly he stood withdrawing the tape and left the room unblinking. Gil sat, the only movement a dangerous, shivering twitch in his jaw. Never had he felt such rage. He prided himself on his detachment, but now, now he welcomed the rage. His vice grip shattered an object unknown in his hand. He never responded as the glass pieces flew in all directions. Eventually he too left. Sara and Catherine remained immobile, sobbing.

--oo0oo--

Archie was aghast at Nick when he showed up in the lab door. Nick was pale as a sheet, his eyes red rimmed with tears threatening to break, looking at everything except what he held in his hand, and he was shaking violently. He lifted the hand with a videotape towards him shaking enough that Archie snatched it up before he dropped it. He'd barely set it on the table when Nick suddenly swayed dangerously, stumbled backwards against the wall and collapsed to the floor.

"Nick!" He knelt down beside him. Nick looked shocked that he was suddenly on the floor and was still swaying slightly. Archie touched his arm and repeated his name to get his attention. Nick didn't respond. He noticed that Nick was unnaturally cold.

"Nick?" he only stared at the floor unblinking. He obviously wouldn't be going anywhere so Archie took the risk and darted towards Grissom's office. He knew there was an afghan on the couch and Nick really needed to warm up. He slowed suddenly when he realized that he could _hear_ Grissom's office. He stepped inside cautiously. The tarantulas were attack the walls of their cage furiously, the hissing cockroaches were running about chaotically hissing at anything and everything and all the other weird things Gil had were going nuts. In the office Gil was charging about muttering under his breath dangerously unaware that he wasn't alone. Archie thought it safer to just grab the blanket and leave unnoticed.

He draped the blanket of Nick's shoulders and sat down beside him. Nick had drawn his knees up to his chest, holding them tightly. He was still shaking but not quite as badly as before. He didn't look at Archie. They sat silently for a few minutes. Archie broke the silence.

"Nick. What happened?" Nick took a shuttering breath.

"I can't do this. They're killing him. I-I don't know what to do." the tears were falling silently, testament to the horror he'd seen.

"Don't give up Nick. This isn't over. We will find him."

"How? The guy was right. He's impossible to find."

"The guy is a fool if he thinks I won't find something. Now that I have something to work with, we'll find him for sure. Don't give up Nick. Greg needs us to be strong now more than ever." Nick nodded slowly.

"Thanks Archie, you're right. Greg does need us." Archie gave him a comforting smile before standing up and leaving the room. He didn't intend to be gone long. On the way out he found a co-worker.

"I want you to send a few people to check on Warrick,, Sara and Catherine. Make sure they're okay and stay okay. Oh and give Grissom a wide berth for a while."

"Why should we baby sit them?"

"Just do it." Archie snarled. It wasn't often he brought out the intimidating side of him. But it sure was useful every now and then. The person slunk away to do the task. He returned from the break room quickly, handing the now full cup to Nick. Who looked like he'd calmed down some. Nick took it and looked up at him.

"What's this?"

"Drink it. If it doesn't give you a heart attack after all that coffee it'll make you feel better." Curious Nick took a sip.

"Mountain Dew?"

"Feel better?" Nick took another longer sip.

"Yeah, a little." he took another sip.

"I guess that's why women call it comfort food, er…drink in this case."

"Comfort food?" he quirked a brow at Archie prompting explanation.

"A couple of months ago I was sick as a dog. Felt so bad I just wanted to die. Then my girl gave me some of that and said it was comfort food. Never failed to make you feel better. I figured it was worth a shot and tried it, it worked. Now I keep at least one form of comfort food on hand at all times." Nick smiled. He raised his cup slightly.

"Well here's to comfort foods" He took a long gulp.

"There's an entire bottle in the break room, I put you guys' name on it. It's just for you. Figured you should get off the coffee for a while." Nick laughed quietly. He felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders, for a while at least.

"So you put us on Mountain Dew?" Archie shrugged.

"Comfort food my man, comfort food." They smiled. Archie went to begin work on the tape, plugging in a set of headphones into the television. Whatever was on this, Nick didn't need to hear it again.

"Archie, only you okay. Don't let anyone else watch, please?" Archie looked at him sympathetically.

"Okay Nick, only me."

**A/N: I'm so mean. Okay everyone, give Greg a big hug, he needs it! **


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Okay, here is another long awaited chapter, not really. Anyways, thanks for all the wonderful reviews. knadineg, please don't hurt my villains. This is a plea for their lives. I need them functional still. Yes they are evil and deserve it, but what am I gonna do if you kill them? Hmmmm...I'll lose my story. Anyways here is another chapter.**

Chapter 7

The world was dark. Everything was dark, even his mind. He was so tired. It hurt so bad. They had been so mad when they found him again that the man had beaten him unconscious right in the street. Later, a long time later, he woke up in the darkness that was now his only companion with the pain. He lay there in a dark room, the sandy dirt gritting painfully against his skin. He couldn't know for sure, but he thought he was in a basement now. There were only three things in his world. Darkness because he was blindfolded, pain and fear. He just wanted to go home. To be safe again. To disappear. That's what he wanted. But it would never happen. This was where he was going to die. Alone.

He could vaguely feel himself shivering. He was so cold. It was getting harder form each thought in his head let alone hold that thought. Had he been able to form rational thoughts he would know he was going into shock. He couldn't muster enough energy to do more than blink. The world floated by him without any meaning. He was oblivious to when the door opened and closed, four feet entering the room quietly. Two sets of eyes stared at him for a while, fingers pressing lightly against the pulse in his neck. He could discern the words, but they had no meaning to him.

"He's not gonna last much longer."

"He has to. The boss is already irate that he got away. I don't want to be around if he dies before we get anything from him."

"Well he can't leave this basement, he's caused more trouble than he's worth."

"We'll just have to bring some stuff down here to help him out. Keep him alive for a little longer."

"Fine, just enough that he can handle more questions."

"Bring me some blankets, gauze, pressure bandages, and an iv and water bag." the other man left the room to fetch the items quickly. The man rolled Greg over and removed the handcuffs before rolling him onto his back again, removing the blindfold. If the high fever, cold skin, and weak erratic pulse weren't enough indication the kid was in trouble, the catatonic stare was. He would sluggishly blink every now and then, but that was the only indication he was alive. The kid moaned weakly and the man noticed his broken wrist was wedged underneath his body. Roughly he pulled it out and let it drop to the floor. The wince was seriously delayed. He hated having to doctor the hostages. Most of them got this delusion that he really cared whether they died. In truth, he didn't. He just had to make sure they were alive long enough to fulfill their use.

The first thing he did was insert the iv and get that started, the he threw the blanket over the kid, moving it out of his way as he went to the leg and worked to stop the bleeding from the bullet. The left leg had sustained a bullet to the thigh which was seeping blood again slowly, but it had also broken when the kid jumped out the window. The bone was poking out a good three inches, but it was so swollen that it had stopped the bleeding. It took more effort than he expected to stop the bleeding in the leg, but he managed. The stab wound that he'd given him on the other hand, was just as stubborn as himself. It was bleeding heavily and refused to slow let alone stop. He scowled. This kid had blood like water. In the end he gave the kid a blood thickener which helped bring the bleeding to a stop. The amount he gave him wouldn't last too long, but it would be long enough. For the next hour or so he thumbed through various magazines and a grill cheese sandwich with root beer. He glanced at Greg every now and then. What little color could, did come back to his skin and the fever was taking hold. By the time the iv bag was empty, the catatonic stare was gone. That was when he took his stuff and left. The kid would live, another day at least.

It was strange. He felt stronger. Still exhausted, still riddled with pain, still unwilling to move, but he felt better. He didn't know what brought this about but he was glad for it. A small part of his mind said that he was losing it and that he was just making a bee line for death's door, but he shoved that part away. He just wanted to go home. His stomach growled loudly, the rumbling upsetting his ribs. He rolled onto his side with a groan, curling into a protective ball, cradling his broken wrist against his side. He was so hungry. It had been cruel, but he was sure he'd been smelling grill cheese a while ago. The smell wouldn't leave, though when he looked around he'd been by himself and no food present. It was torture. It smelled so good and he was so hungry. Lying there he drifted in and out of sleep, never feeling better, but his head was clearer along with the rest of the world. His mind wandered to various things like past events of name that substance, and the antics he would play on Gil and Catherine when they wanted the results for some test, or when he was dancing in the hall with that ornate headdress on. He could remember Catherine laughing at him, then there was Grissom just staring at him not knowing what to think. He liked keeping Griss on his toes. There was a big contrast between their likes and he found it entertaining to see his boss's reaction to the different things he did to entertain himself.

He had just been considering attempting to sit up when the door opened again. Two blurry figures entered and lifted him to his feet. He yelped at the fresh crash of pain. He couldn't walk so he let them drag him to a chair in the middle of a room. James was standing against the wall, a vicious smile on his face.

"How are we today Greg." Greg thought quickly.

"Peachy" he tried to sound defiant and brave but only managed a groggy whisper with a slight shake.

"Well then, I'll begin. I've decided to play a game."

--oo0oo--

Catherine sighed. This was the worst week of her life. Everyone of them had been shaken to the core by that video. And to think it had happened before Greg had called them. Nick had told them that Greg had jumped out of a two story window. At first she'd wondered what could motivate him to do that, now she knew…desperation. It had scared and shocked her when Brass had bluntly admitted to not being strong enough to watch the tape twice, and now she knew why. She wondered how Archie would be able to do it. Would he be able to detach himself just enough to get the job done. After this she would pester Grissom to give him a serious raise. She breathed in the cool night air. It had stopped raining, but it was still cold and windy. It helped wake her up enough for the drive home. Like everyone else the idea of going home for food, a shower and sleep was a horrid idea, but they needed rest. It had been agreed that they would go home in shifts for a few hours and return so someone else could, or in this instance, be forced to leave. It was her turn. Only Nick had been exempt from leaving because Greg had called on his phone, but he was still being required to sleep on the couch in Archie's lab.

She walked slowly to her car, weary. As much as she didn't want to stop working, the shower and sleep garnished with food was tempting. Determined not to be too long she climbed into her car and pulled out of the driveway. She never noticed the vehicle across the street pulling out in a perfectly innocent way with devious intent.

--oo0oo--

Greg was horrified. They had pulled a tv in front of him and up to the point they turned it on his mind had been cloudy and sluggish, but no now. Now he couldn't be more alert. On the screen was live video feed of Catherine, who was unaware she was being watched. She was climbing into her car. She looked horrible, deep circles under her eyes, but then, he was one to talk. She drove away and at the same time he saw a semi pull out of a parking lot across the street. It would have looked perfectly innocent to anyone else. He continued to watch from a live camera inside a third vehicle as the other two picked up to significant speeds. He watched fearfully as both pulled onto a back road that was empty except for them.

He stopped breathing as the semi pulled up along side her in the narrow two lanes and slammed into her sideways running her car off the road careening down the steep almost mountainous hill, bouncing into the air as if it were a paper ball. By the time it came to a stop slamming against a boulder it was crunched in, the original shape unrecognizable. Greg was sure he didn't breath for the entire five minutes the camera was trained on the motionless car before blacking out. Catherine never got out. Greg let the tears fall shamelessly.

"No, no no no no no no." the man smiled at him.

"I told you, I was going to play a game. Now that you know the consequences, I'm going to ask you questions." At that moment five more televisions were rolled out, each one followed every movement of Warrick, Nick, Sara, Grissom, and even Jim Brass. He suddenly felt exhausted again. What little energy the adrenaline of watching Catherine run off the road was now gone leaving him more exhausted, sluggish and groggy then before. His heart dropped into his stomach.

"What do you want?" his voice was shaking now.

"A name. Whom did you call on your little jaunt?" Greg was gaping still at the screens and hadn't responded quickly enough for James. A gun appeared in Warrick's screen, slowly aiming at his head.

"NO! I called Nick!" the gun disappeared. James smiling.

"Very good. Next time though, you answer me immediately." He gave a sharp nod and the onslaught of punches rained down abruptly. He cried out falling off the chair. The punches were replaced with kicks. He screamed with each rib snapping. Though the beating only lasted for a few minutes, it had felt like eternity. Greg found his consciousness was again on a very slipping slope and he was losing it fast.

"Now Greg, I'm going to let you think about this for a little why. I want you to be thinking about that witness you found. I want to know the name." That was the last coherent thing he heard before he was dragged back to his basement and chucked down the stairs. He lay there unmoving, the darkness swallowing him up and just before he slipped into unconsciousness, one simple thought returned to him like a life line. _Nick will find me….Nick will save me…Nick will find me…Nick will save me._

--oo0oo--

Everything was a blur. There was sounds around her, but they were muted at best. Her mind was muddled and slow. Where was she? What happened? She felt heavy, too heavy. Something was very wrong. Her entire body had this cold, overwhelming ache. A strange numbness was slowly pulling back, replaced by an ever increasing pain, everywhere. She could hear voices swirling around her like the constant buzz of flies in her ear. Someone was calling her name…no, not her name. Something else. Slowly she cracked open her eyelids. They felt sticky and wet. There were two people hovering over her and she could see the movement of others beyond them. Confused she struggled to sit up but was quickly pushed back.

"Ma'am, please lay still you've been in a car accident. Can you tell me your name?"

"Wha--"

"Your name. Can you tell me your name?"

"C-Catherine Willows, Las V-Vegas C-Crime Lab" the voices said something else but she couldn't hear them as she drifted into unconsciousness again.

--oo0oo--

The room was in utter silence. Hardly anyone spoke unless it was unavoidable. No one wanted to speak, not after the video. Only time voices could be heard among them was when a discussion of evidence or a battle on going home for rest erupted. The only one that didn't fight was Nick. Archie had personally become his caretaker in a sort, claiming that if Nick wanted to stay in his lab he would follow his rules. Which meant getting rest. He'd also been ordering in enough food for an army and was seeing that they all ate something. Only Catherine had refused the food, saying her stomach couldn't handle what had been ordered. So now she was under strict orders to eat when she got home.

That had been almost two hours ago when she left. It was at one of the few times when they were all in the lab, Grissom asking Archie what he had on the tape so far, Warrick was flipping through some files, going over what little evidence they had for something they might have missed, Sara was eating some veggie dish from the Chinese and Nick was grudgingly eating, staring at his phone. Every now and then he would stop and Archie would give him a hard stare until he would eat again. He'd quickly lost his appetite and the thought of food was vile.

They all jumped when the shrill ring of Gil's phone erupted, echoing of the walls. They all couldn't help but wonder if Grissom's phone was next to be wired up by Archie. They all stared at him as his face darkened, he nodded sharply several times then hung up the phone with a look like he was about to smash it against the wall.

"Sara, Warrick, I need you two to go to the hospital, Catherine's been in a car accident." They stared stunned for a moment. That was very left field, from their perspectives at least. The shock wore off just enough for them to spring into action, gathering their stuff soberly.

"Hey Warrick, call me on Archie's phone when you have news." Nick was hating having to stay behind now.

"Sure Nicky, the very minute." They gave each other sad, desperate smiles before leaving. Warrick drove white knuckled, sirens blaring, cutting every corner possible, not caring that he was bending the rules or outright breaking them at times. He had to get to the hospital and now! Beside him Sara had the seatbelt as tight as it would go, barely allowing for air and she still gripped the door and seat for dear life, not even attempting to slow Warrick down. They got there in record time though it had seemed like an eternity.

As expected there was no information on Catherine's condition. It took everything Sara had to keep him from exploding at the nurse for not having information, having to literally push him away from the desk. He'd settled to pacing furiously throughout the room, constantly shooting glares between the clock and nurses that walked by silently. The minutes felt like hours and hours like days. Several times Warrick would ask for information just to be told they didn't have any, and held back from outbursts by Sara. They were at their wits end with Greg alone, but now Catherine, someone higher up in the universe either had it out for them or had a sick sense of humor. Sara was sure that Warrick pounced at the doctor when he FINALLY came out.

"How is she? Is she okay? Will she be okay?"

"Please sit and I'll tell you what I know"

"Fine." Warrick sat next to Sara impatiently.

"Mrs. Willows sustained a broken leg and wrist, severe concussion, badly bruised kidneys, three broken ribs and two cracked, as well as multiple deep lacerations. She lost a lot of blood both externally as well as internally but I was able to patch it up nicely."

"So…she'll be okay?"

"After a week or two in the hospital and lots of down time at home coupled with physical therapy for the leg, barring complications of course. Yes, she should be fine." Warrick was stunned and overwhelmingly grateful. He was speechless.

"Can we see her?" Sara sounded so calm. He couldn't believe how calm she could sound right now.

"She won't be ready for visitors for another half hour at least, but then I'll allow one person to stay with her." They nodded, watching silently as the doctor walked off to tend other patients. They sat silently, soaking in the relief before Warrick spoke up.

"Can…can you stay. I need someone to watch her, know she's really safe, but, I can't wait, not now." she nodded understanding. It was hard to wait, especially for him she knew. He needed to be doing something and they still needed things moving to find Greg.

"Sure, I can do that. Jus find Greg for me and I'll call it even." they both gave weak sad laughs at the attempt to lighten the mood.

"Thanks. I'm calling Nick on the way. You'll let us know of any changes."

"Of course." Warrick walked away briskly. Catherine would be okay, now he could focus on finding Greg.

--oo0oo--

Greg woke with a jolt. Everything was muddled, swirling and blending together. There was a buzz in his ear like a fly. He tried to swat at it but he found that the slightest twitch sent waves of pain coursing through his body. He remained curled tensely, afraid to move. He retreated deep into his mind, the familiar mantra returning, his only life line to sanity. _Nick will find me…Nick will save me…Nick will find me…Nick will save me…_ At some point he got this intense feeling of being watched and painfully cracked his eyes open. He didn't know how long the two blurry figures had been standing there, but there they were, snickering and whispering something to each other. Mustering all his strength he glared viciously at them. They laughed.

"Well it looks like their might be a little attitude left in him after all." They lifted him to his feet suddenly. He yelped in pain. It was hard to breathe, especially standing. His body weight pulled agonizingly against his ribs. He was overjoyed when they finally shoved him into a chair, letting him sag, barely remaining on the chair. James was sitting in a chair just a few feet in front of Greg.

"Afternoon Greggo. Been doing a lot of sleeping lately. Am I really all that boring?" Greg fought through his muddled mantra to find a response.

"Like watching milk…curdle to cheese." he never had a chance to brace himself as he was pistol-whipped viciously across the jaw falling off the chair with a pained thud. A nameless goon shoved him back into the chair.

"That was very rude Gregory, I suggest you remember your manors. But I am going to make things more interesting for you. I've decided to play another game." Greg gulped.

"W-what kind of game." he couldn't keep his raspy voice from shaking.

"It's simple really, I ask you a question and if you don't answer or I think you are lying we play roulette. Understand." Greg nodded.

"Good. First question. Do you know the identity of the witness against me?"

"N-no" James sighed, pulling out a revolver pressing it against his forehead and pulled the trigger. Greg jumped terribly at the click of an empty chamber.

"Y-y-yes" Greg fought not to shake.

"Tell me the name." his voice was frighteningly calm. Greg remained silent, breathing heavily. James popped the barrel out spinning it swiftly then snapping it back in place loudly. Greg looked at his feet terrified. He couldn't hide the shaking when the cold metal pressed against his forehead.

"P-please d-don't." he never saw the malicious smile, jerking violently at the click. He curled forward desperate to just hide, disappear.

"You know Greg. You are making this much harder than it has to be. I know that you don't want to die. And I don't want to kill you."

"Then don't kill me and I won't die and we're both happy" there was a trace of anger in his voice once you got passed the slur.

"That's very good logic, unfortunately for us both, I need that name, and you know what it is. So Greg. Who is the witness." Greg tried to say something, anything, but he opened his mouth to speak and his muscles just wouldn't work. Everything seemed to move in slow motion. The barrel popping out, spinning maniacally, the snap reverberated off the walls, the cold metal snout points at his head. He couldn't hold back the terrified tears any longer all semblance of courage flying out the window.

"P-p-please, d-don't d-do this." with a toothy, malicious grin to seal the deal, James pulled the trigger.

BANG!

**A/N: Am I evil or what! Poor Greg, more hugs for him and everyone else!**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Okay everyone, I don't normally do two chapters a day(excluding Tuesdays) but I got a request from raqndomer(from Ireland) for sooner updates. This was very difficult to figure out since they are seven hours ahead of me. So for today at least, this is my solve, they are getting this at 5:30 in the morning. Now this brought up something in my head, could you guys tell me where you are time zone wise in correlation to California? How many hours ahead or behind are you. I want to accomodate the majority. Also, I'm far enough ahead of you(chapter 18 to be exact) that if you would like, I can do two chapters a day(one in the morning and one in the afternoon) if enough of you say yes than I will. Besides, it's very frustrating being so far ahead of you and not being able to talk. So let me know. Here's the next chappy! Send all the little wonderful reviews!**

Chapter 8

Sara sat, stony silent, next to Catherine's bed. She was a mess of gauze, tubes wires, and bandages. One wrist was in a cast and the broken leg would be soon, but first it required a secondary operation to put some pieces back together. The doctor had said she would be leaving for surgery in about ten minutes and Sara intended to wait with her for each and every minute. She felt sorry for Warrick. He would lose all forms of composure having to sit and wait, no matter how much he cared for Cath, when they still had to rescue Greg.

Any other time and he could do it, but not now. She stared blankly, delicately holding Catherine's one free hand, being careful of the iv until her vigil was interrupted by the doctors. Time for surgery. She stepped out giving the doctors room to work and watched, biting back the fear as they rolled Catherine out of her sight. It was amazing how circumstances can change something that wouldn't be so scary and make it unbearably terrifying.

"Excuse me Ms. Sidle?" Sara jumped, turning to find a medium height, soft faced firefighter behind her.

"Yes, what can I do for you?' the man shifted from foot to foot for a moment. _A nervous firefighter? If he's getting ready for a pickup line I'll slap his senseless!_ She mentally shook her head, she was jumping the gun. Not everyone was that stupid.

"Umm…I was one of the response team that went to Mrs. Willows accident. And I was looking around the crash sight while the paramedics were working with her, and…I noticed it looked…odd, for an accident."

"What are you implying sir?" he pursed his lips for a moment.

"None of my colleges believe me, but I don't think it was an accident. I really can't be sure so I took all the pictures I could and thought I should give them to you. After all, it's what you do, so you'll be able to judge it best." she gaped at him, numbly accepting three rolls of film. That was the last thing she expected.

"Uhhh…thank you, I'll look into it right away." He smiled weakly at her turning to walk away, but suddenly paused and looked at her again.

"Ms. Please be careful. I know it's not out with the press but all the different authorities got a memo about your friend Sanders, and now what happened to Mrs. Willows, they can't be coincidence. Just be careful"

"I will." she waited until he was gone before looking down stunned at the handful of film. Slowly coming to her senses she briskly walked out of the hospital. Catherine would be in surgery for an hour or so according to the doctor and they had strict orders to call her with info if she wasn't there. Catherine was in safe hands, but Greg was far from that and now she had something she could do. The brisk air hit her like a wall, but was refreshing and made her feel somewhat invigorated. She whipped out her cell phone.

"Grissom."

"Griss it's Sara, I'm headed back to the lab. I just ran into one of the response firefighters from Cath's accident and he said he had some suspicions about it being an accident so he took lots of pictures. I'm going to get them developed priority."

"Good go with that. We'll take anything we can get. But be careful, if it wasn't an accident than we don't know who's next."

"I will Griss. Do you guys have anything over there?"

"Well Archie is going over the tape like a mad man, nobody's willing to get in his way. We were able to get a partial off the tape, it's another section of the partial we found earlier. It narrowed down that list we were looking at. Brass is bringing the guy in now."

"finally, that could lead us to Greg, right?"

"That's what we're hoping. How's Catherine?"

"Still unconscious, they took her for a scheduled surgery for her leg."

"That's good. Be careful."

"I promise." she snapped the phone shut and climbed into the car. Not caring about the limits she put the pedal to the floor. They had to get Greg.

--oo0oo--

He stood over his body, smiling. This was going perfectly. Though the kid was proving more difficult than he'd expected. The young Gregory had more strength then met the eye. No matter, it wouldn't be much longer now. It was amazing he'd held out this long, not so much in life but in silence. It had been perfect, he'd been so intent on watching the gun point at him that he never saw it shift to the side ever so slightly. He'd known the gun wasn't empty that time, but Greg hadn't. He now lay, unconscious, fainted when the gun fired, a deep, hideous gash now sported across his skull from a slight curve to the back of his head. It was bleeding heavily.

His blissful reverie was interrupted by the shrill of his phone. He sighed before answering. He hated interruptions, but he knew that if he was being called, it must be important. He walked away from his victim to attend to business.

"What?"

"Willows survived the crash. Some firefighter got nosey. Took lots of pictures of the crash. Sidle is bringing them to the lab to investigate."

"That was fast, they're getting smarter."

"Who the firemen or the CSI's?" a good question.

"The firemen of course, the CSI will never learn."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Take care of it. Slow them down. I don't want them moving too quickly."

"Consider it done." he snapped the phone shut, turning on the dear Ms. Sidle's screen. This would happen promptly. He watched as she drove almost recklessly towards the lab. He watched patiently as they followed her but no opportunity came, not until she was in the parking lot. She parked a good distance from the front door, but not too far, as usual. She didn't get out immediately. It appeared she dropped something and bent to pick it up, staying out of sight for a moment. It was after this that their opportunity came and his men moved in for the kill.

--oo0oo--

Grissom needed air. He'd been in this suddenly stuffy lab for too long. It was taking too long. Too long to bring in that suspect that the partial had identified, too long had it been without Greg. It was taking too long to find Greg. The cold rush of air did little to sooth his anxiety. Everything as of late had shaken him. He fought hard to hide how much this was affecting him, how unsure and insecure he suddenly felt. He was in uncharted waters, feeling so powerless, so useless. Seldom did he not know what to do, but that's exactly where he was now. He held his wrist pulse firmly, frowning at its pace. He was losing control. When did this happen? When did Greg become a son to him? He didn't know the exact moment. He would never know. Just like he would never know when they had all become a such a close knit family.

It was during these lines of thought, his pulse gradually slowing back to normalcy as he forced his emotions back into their iron cage when he saw Sara pull up to her usual parking spot. He took several deep breaths, he couldn't let them see how close he was to losing it. He saw her duck into her car, seemingly having dropped something. He watched not truly interested, but having nothing else to focus his gaze in his thought. She was walking towards him. Everything seemed fine, until the unthinkable happened.

It was like his entire existence shattered as frail glass. Strangely loud and yet utterly silent. The shot echoed in his ears. He saw it happen in slow motion. Nearly saw the bullet travel along its course. He heard the sickening crunching squelch as it hit her. He saw the confused, pained expression contort her face. Her knees buckled beneath her ever so slowly as she collapsed. His shout was muffled to his own ears. Before he could even move a stranger, lithe and swift, appeared out of nowhere, grabbing her purse, appearing to rifle through it, pulling free three lone cases of film and was gone. Grissom was moving long before he even realized. Swiftly kneeling by her side, the 9-1-1 call made without his even realizing. The world was a blur. All he saw was Sara, before him, blood pooling far to rapidly beneath her. He removed his jacket, pressing it hard against her chest, barely staunching the flow of blood.

She was completely limp, her eyes closed. Her breaths came in short, gurgling rasps. Gil pressed harder, not know what else to do. Suddenly she gasps, crying out in pain, her eyes opening to slits. She looked around sluggishly. Her breaths shortening, coming more slowly, the time growing between each breath. Slowly her eyes began to drift shut again.

"Sara. Stay with me. I need you to stay awake." they opened a small bit, tiredly looking at him, the pain far to visible. "Hold on Sara, just hold on." her throat worked as if to say something but no sound came. He continued to talk to her, keep her conscious, though she was fading fast.

"P-p-p….p-pocket" he looked at her confused, shifting so that his one hand still maintained the pressure. He didn't know why, but he wiped the blood off his hand before going to the pocket, which now that he'd looked at it, could see it bulge. Withdrawing the contents he found the three rolls of film, without their canisters. Not giving them another thought he stuffed them in his pocket. He looked back at her face. She gasped without truly getting air, her eyes screwed shut with pain. He could hear the sirens in the distance, though they were far closer than he knew.

"Hold on Sara. Just a little longer, help is on the way." his heart stopped when she went slack. He panicked. She wasn't breathing. Her pulse lasted for a few seconds more then was gone. "No, don't do this!" he never realized he'd yelled it, but he really didn't care. He was oblivious to the crowd forming in the street to stare at the spectacle before them.

He desperately performed CPR, willing her to breath, for her heart to beat. Suddenly he was pushed away, paramedics taking over the situation, taking control. They were swift to remove her shirt, warm the paddles. He stared in horror as her body arched stiffly off the ground to crash back down limply. He went numb as the process was repeated twice more.

His world was ending, everything was silent. Except for the sudden gasp, from Sara. Her body jerked violently, wrenched by wet hacks, blood streaming out of the corners of her mouth. Her eyes were open, but the Sara he knew wasn't there. They were glazed with pain, that's all there was in them…pain.

Suddenly she was on a gurney. The paramedics were shouting all about, a multitude of terms none but them understood. She was loaded into the ambulance, and in seconds, Sara was gone. The crowd across the street began to disperse, having seen all the action they were going to get, but the crowd of CSIs in the parking lot, remained still. All except for Warrick and Nick who were now pushing their way roughly through the crowd towards Grissom. They got a long look at Grissom covered in blood as they ran up.

"Griss! Griss! Are you okay?" he looked at them slowly.

"Fine. It's Sara's"

"Gil what happened?" suddenly he remembered the film. Sara had thought it important. Why had she hidden them in her pocket while the canisters were empty in her purse. It was almost as if she were expecting something

"She was bringing in evidence from Catherine's accident when someone shot her. Process these top priority. Whatever's on them, someone didn't want us to see it."

"Fine. We'll get right on it."

"I'm going to the hospital." with that Grissom walked off without another word. Nick and Warrick looked at each other despairingly. They were at a loss. Never had they in their darkest dreams imagined that in one week, two of their team would be hospitalized or kidnapped needing a hospital. Everything was out of control, and everyone they knew was being taken out from life's recklessness. They could only hope that they came out on top in the end, with everyone alive.

**A/N: See I couldn't really kill Greg...yet...evil maniacal laugh...AHA...AHA!**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Okay everyone, I'm going with the majority, I will be posting two chapters a day now, so long as I still get enough reviews for each chapter. Here is the next chapter, not as long but don't worry, it's good. Plenty of angst. Poor Greg. So, I know you all want to kill my villains, but I request you wait until I'm finished with them okay? Thanks**

Chapter 9

He had watched it all happen, up to the point where desperate little Grissom was kneeling by her body. He didn't bother to watch the rest, the deed was done. No point in watching any longer. He turned back to Greg. The boy was still unconscious but that was to be expected as he'd only been in the abyss for fifteen minutes at most. He sat there, staring at him, thinking of what he would do next. He'd be lying if he said he thought it would be this hard to get information from the boy.

He would have to get creative. He may have overwhelmed the kid so much that he made his job harder. He needed a new tactic. But what could he do? It was a puzzling though. Most of his victims crumbled by mere anticipation. What surprised him the most was that the kid had done some serious damage all on his own just trying to get away. He wondered why he'd jumped from a second story window. They hadn't done too much to him at that point, roughed him up some yes, but he had to learn the rules somehow.

It had been a short half hour after watching the business with Sidle before he got an idea. He signaled to his men to wake Sanders up. It was hard work, he'd really been out. James waited until they had him nearly coherent before he pulled out a phone and dialed the number slowly. He smiled as the phone barely finished the first ring before anxiously being answered.

"Evening Nicky." Nick bristled.

"Where's Greg? Let me speak to Greg."

"Now now Nicky, don't be rude, it wouldn't be in Greggo's best interest to be rude."

"What is it you want to talk about James?" Nick was struggling to sound polite.

"Well I thought I should tell you that we'll be having a video conference in say…an hour, so stay close. I do recall saying in our last, meeting, that there was something you could do to get our dear Greg back alive, so I supposed I should tell you what that was."

"You could just tell me where he is and make things simpler."

"True, but then I wouldn't get anything I needed done. But there is something you can do for your little friend now. It would help keep him alive longer."

"What is that?"

"Well, you see, he and I have been having several lovely chats, you know, getting information and all, but he doesn't seem very cooperative with me. It would be in his best interest if you convinced him to cooperate with me." Nick gulped. He was going to get to talk to Greg after all. He hoped Greg was okay.

"Alright, let me talk to him."

"You can try, not that he's coherent. Barely conscious that boy." Nick gritted his teeth at the pointed taunt. He had to keep his cool, for Greg. "Alright, he can hear you."

"Greg? Greg, can you hear me?" Greg's head lolled in little circles as he fought to keep it halfway up. That voice, that voice was so familiar. It made him feel safer. It took all his strength to speak a single word.

"N-N-Nick?"

"Hey Greggo, I need you to hold on okay, we're gonna find you okay." Greg had to really focus to hear what Nick said. He sounded so far away. So faint. But hearing a friendly voice, someone who would find him, protect him, someone who would keep him safe. Hearing that voice he just broke down. He couldn't be strong anymore.

"Nick! P-please…help me….hurts so bad…so scared…p-p-please N-Nick…y-you g-gotta g-get me out of h-h-here….p-p-p-please h-help m-me." Greg was now sobbing between short gasping breaths, his voice barely above that of a whisper. It broke Nick's heart to hear such a close friend so broken and scared.

"It's okay Greg, I'm going to find you okay? I. Will. Find. You. I just need you to hang on okay. Just hold on for a little longer." Nick was fighting for his voice to remain steady. Greg needed to hear him being strong, he needed someone to be strong for him.

"C-can't…hurts…so bad….so t-t-tired" he could hear Greg was fading fast. He had to find him.

"Greg, stay with me buddy. I need you to do something for me."

"Wha--" his words slurred terribly.

"I want you to do what they say okay, whatever it takes to stay alive."

"C-cant, w-won't tell 'm who…witness." so that was what they were after. They wanted the witness he'd found. Greg was trying to protect the witness, even at the cost of his own life.

"Greg, listen to me. You have to tell them. No one here will think any less of you. We couldn't be any more proud then we are, no matter what. Just stay alive for us. We all want you back alive. Just hold on."

"C-can't, w-won't kill 'nother….t'save me" Nick nearly cursed Greg's sense of justice out loud. He had to tell them or they would kill him sooner rather than later, which greatly shortened the chances of finding him. Suddenly Nick had an idea.

"Greg, you still there?"

"yeah" barely.

"Tell them the witness is McPherson, that's the name, we can protect 'm, but we need to get you back alive."

"But…that's n…"

"No! Just tell them. We need you to hold on as long as possible okay, just tell them."

" 'kay." Nick couldn't hear Greg anymore, at first he'd thought that Greg was unconscious, but then he realized the phone was being taken. The last he heard of Greg were two little words barely audible.

"help….me…" he then heard a sickening thud and Greg was gone.

"DON'T DO THAT!"

"Calm yourself Stokes. Your friend is fine. You'll find out in an hour just how well Greg listens. If he does well, he'll not be in any worse condition…if not…." the man never finished but instead hung up. Nick let the tears fall. His heart broke at hearing Greg. All he wanted to do was hold Greg tightly in his arms and tell him everything was okay, that he was safe, but he couldn't. He felt what little hope he'd had slowly slipping away. He was beginning to believe they would never find Greg alive. Only by what he sounded like Nick knew Greg was in very bad shape. His time was running out. It was now that he finally noticed Archie asking him questions about the call. Numbly he gave him everything he needed to know about the conference that would occur in an hour.

He needed some fresh air, but remembering what happened to Sara, he couldn't bring himself to go outside. Instead he went to the roof, opening the door to the outside and sitting to the side of it so he could feel the chill wind blow against him, but no shots if fired would hit him. He laughed at his thinking. When had they become so afraid? Afraid of the world around them?

He longed for this all to be over, for them to not fear what was outside the walls of the lab. For them to be healthy, happy, and together again. To be safe. He was so tired of being afraid, afraid for Greg. Suddenly he remembered Grissom. He might want to be present for the video conference. He knew he should call. He would, but he couldn't quite bring himself to speak to another yet. He remained where he was for a short time more before regaining the strength to speak. Slowly he dialed Grissom. He gave him the details of the call, speaking little of his conversation with Greg, only speaking of what he learned about the connection with the witness. That may have been the bit of information that led them to saving Greg. He could only hope.

Slowly, he rose to his feet, taking each weary step back towards reality and life. He had work to do. Archie was already dissecting the audio tape. So far they weren't getting anything from the audio tapes or the video tape. They had all the authorities in San Francisco on alert for Greg's whereabouts, but these men were being cautious, too cautious. If they didn't slip up soon, they may never find them, or Greg. Even if they knew the identities, which they probably would soon thanks to Greg mentioning that witness, it would be hard to find them. If ever there was a time to be at their best, this was it. Archie gave him a reassuring nod as he walked by. Nick had a call to make. They needed names, and now. He dialed the number hastily.

"This is Nick Stoke from the Las Vegas Crime Lab, you are currently processing a witness connected to the Emmanuel case and I need a list of names that the witness can give ASAP!" he listened impatiently at the man's reply.

"Why! I'll tell you why, because MY crime scene investigator has been kidnapped and is being tortured for the identity of that witness, not to mention two more of MY people have been hospitalized due to attempts on their lives for this witness and we need those names to find MY guy and the criminals before this escalates to murder. THAT IS WHY I NEED THOSE NAMES. NOW GET THEM TO ME ASAP!' Nick snapped the phone shut angrily instantly after giving the phone number.

He'd been given a spare phone to use so he could still be functional. Nick spent a great deal of time pacing, waiting for the list of names. Hoping they had taken him seriously. He wasn't sure whether he'd actually had the authority to demand that information from the witness, he just hoped that if he didn't, that they didn't know it. He paced and wandered aimlessly in thought. There was nothing else he could do so far. His thoughts wandered, mostly replaying the phone calls and video tapes over and over again in his head.

They would plague his every waking thought, and haunt him in his sleep for a long time after this he knew. After a long while he looked at the clock. Fifteen minutes until the hour had passed. Fifteen minutes until Grissom would be at the lab. Fifteen minutes until Warrick, Archie, Grissom, and he were in the tech lab, participating in a video conference. Fifteen minutes until he would actually get to see Greg again, hopefully not for the last time. Fifteen minutes until they found out what they could do to save Greg's life. Fifteen minutes not saving Greg from torture. Fifteen minutes too long.

**A/N: Okay, hope you liked it. Press the neat little purple button at the corner of the screen(the left one) and check up around oh, Ten-ish to Noon-ish for the next chapter!**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: For all my spoiled readers out there, here is the second chapter of the day! I could still use a few more reviews for the last chapter, and for this one! More of Greg! You love me! Give him a hug, he needs it!**

Chapter 10

Greg had barely heard the name. McPherson. He didn't recognize the name, but maybe it was the new identity from witness protection. He really didn't know. Something about Nick having that information didn't sit right with him, but he couldn't think of anything else. He repeated the name over and over again so he wouldn't forget even though he'd been told only five seconds before. Nick was talking to him again, he could barely hear though. He was vaguely aware of himself objecting to something, but Nick stopped him, saying more. The world was blurring, he felt so tired. He never saw it coming. James had taken the phone and hit him with the gun. It wasn't very hard, just enough to daze him in normal circumstances, but he was so tired and weak. When the gun hit, his world went black.

James hung up the phone swiftly beginning his work. He truly hoped the call helped Greg figure out what was best for him. It had gone better than he expected. The kid completely broke down after hearing Nick's voice. He hadn't expected that. But it worked to his advantage. His men made short work of lifting the unconscious Greg into a chair and tying his hands behind his back to the chair, at a much too short length. Even with no room to move from the ropes he still sagged against them heavily. He crushed an ammonia tablet under his nose. Greg groaned, slowly stirring, trying to escape the smell but he couldn't. His eyes fluttered open and a moment later he groggily sat back, desperate for relief from the tight ropes. None came. James grabbed another chair, spinning it around to sit on it backwards, resting his arms on the back. Greg was looking at him warily.

"Good to see you awake Gregory. Did you enjoy that little phone call?" Greg didn't answer. "Well?"

"What do you want me to say?"

"Fine, well get down to business. Who is the witness."

"No."

"Okay." he nodded to the man standing behind him. The man pushed Greg as far forward as possible and pressed a knife deep into his back, dragging in down to just past the top hem of his jeans. Greg grunted and winced, desperately trying to remain stoic. It seemed to be the only thing he had left to hold onto, his stubborn pride. He could feel the warm blood dripping down his back, staining his jeans. He kept his focus on James, not wanting to give the man behind him with the knife any attention.

"I'll ask you again, the witness?" Greg braced himself for what was coming as he remained silent. This time the man started just above the hairline on the back of his neck. He pushed it deep, nearly to the handle, dragging it so slowly down his back. It was impossible to remain stoic, he cried out in fresh and old pains. The knife stopped at the farthest point of his lower back, withdrawing and gave a quick slash at the shoulder. He cried out gasping. The room was beginning to spin again. He heard James ask him why he wouldn't just give him the name. That it would be so much easier for him.

"I don't have the right…to sacrifice, someone else's life….even to save…mine." it was getting hard to speak. The small statement winded him. James was looking at him curiously for a moment. Then he scowled.

"I hate it when I get self-sacrificing wanna be heroes, they're so annoying." he sighed. "Alright my good friend here will work with you for a bit. Don't make this harder than it has to be for you." Greg gulped as James got up and left. The man that had been behind him sauntered in circles like a shark around him for a few minutes, with a complete sense of ease. It was unnerving. Greg tried to keep him out of though, gulping the nervous lump quiet, but he couldn't. He made another circle, stopping directly in front of Greg, kneeling down until he was eye to eye with him.

"Me and you, we're going to have fun together." he grabbed his chin so Greg had to look him in the eye. Greg shuddered. The eyes were cold hard and empty. They were soulless eyes. This man was a killer never plagued by guilt. A man without a conscience. There would be no mercy there. He stood again as the door opened and James entered the room again, a soda and plate mounded with grill cheese sandwiches hot out of the pan. Greg's mouth watered. Food, drink. It hurt him, the delicious smell. He gulped again. James had sat down next to a small table and was beginning to eat, to watch the show.

The man was again out of Greg's sight and it scared him to death. He would never know what had been worse, the anticipation or the actual event. Either way, the man went to work. He would start, slowly dragging the knife down his back creating long, deep bloody gashes. Greg lost count after the sixth and soon found himself trying to count the number of spins the room went around, but it went too fast. His back was swiftly soaked in blood. He didn't know how long it had been before James signaled that it was time for questioning. The man stepped back. Greg panted the pain coursing through his body. It was hard to breath anyways, but now it was excruciating, the tiniest breaths.

"Well my good Gregory, I will ask you again what the name of my witness is?" Greg swayed about slightly, finding it quite the challenge to maintain his balance. Tied to the chair or not, he could not maintain steadiness.

"W-won't tell y-you." the man didn't hesitate at slashing his back at least five times. Greg sagged forward heavily with a groan.

"It would be in your best interest, Greggo, to tell me what I want. It is but a simple question and is the only question that I will ask you."

"T-then I w-won't have a u-use t-to you. You'll j-just k-kill me." James smiled. The boy was the thinking kind. He was right of course.

"Do not fear my dear Gregory, I will not kill you once I have the name. I give you my word." Greg looked him in the eye not believing him, but if he kept James talking of other things, perhaps the knife would stay far from him.

"Y-you've done too m-much j-just for a name and l-let me g-go alive." James smiled. The boy was very quick indeed.

"Oh have I?"

"The phone call."

"The hope that you would accept the advice for your own welfare."

"The video tape?"

"Very well, you are intelligent indeed. There is indeed more to be attained then just a name, though if you gave me the name, your life would depend only on whether your friends were willing to cooperate for your sake. Tell me Greg, would they really want to have you back at all?"

"Yes, yes they would."

"Then you have nothing to fear once I have the name my friend."

"Y-you are no friend of m-mine." James sighed heavily.

"Very well. The name?"

"No" more slashing followed by a slow drag. It was agony. He couldn't hold back the scream as the knife cut so unbearably deep. How much more of this could he take. The knife cut again and he broke.

"McPherson!" he yelled it but it was horribly slurred. James held up a pausing hand. The knife did not return.

"What was the name?"

"McPherson McPherson McPherson." he was sobbing with pain. James stood.

"I'll look into the name's validity. For now you get reprieve. You better hope I come back believing you speak the truth." Greg sagged as far forward as possible, his arms thankfully went numb long ago. A single mercy afforded for his broken wrist. He was so tired, so much pain. He knew he wouldn't last much longer. His stomach growled at him viciously, the smell of grilled cheese still lingered in the air. He hoped the name would work, and though his memory was not serving him well at all, he had the distinct feeling that the name McPherson, was not the witness. It was not long before Greg was barely able to keep his eyes open even at mere slits. Slowly sleep overcame him, the exhaustion overwhelming him.

James wandered about, somewhat bored. He still did not know if the name had been false or not, it was still being researched. Until he knew if it was false he could not bother the boy. He would not last much longer, but of course that wasn't the point. If he got his friends scared enough, they would give in to his demands. One of the reasons why he'd become such a successful crime lord was because he promised all who would work for him protection. He would do his best to keep them from being convicted, but unlike most other crime lords, if they did end up being convicted, his protection still held and they were promised to be broken out, either on or off the side of the law. Although it was rare that any of his men were ever successfully convicted, there had been a few and he'd been given the chance to prove that he would not dessert them and they were now enjoying their freedom again.

He found he had wandered idly back towards the man that he'd assigned to research the name. He had to have found it by now. The man was hunched over a computer, the keyboard keys clacking loudly. He stood for a moment before the man noticed his boss' presence. He stood quickly and gave his report promptly. James nodded, not very surprised. The name was a false lead, far from unexpected. Though, you couldn't blame the boy for trying. It had certainly bought him some time, though not a lot of time. He sauntered back towards the room with Greg, giving the man still in the room a curt nod. The man smiled devilishly and pulled out something similar to a cat of nine tails. It was a downsized version, not nearly as lethal or vicious, but it would certainly shred his back. Greg jolted awake with a cry at the first hit, given no time to recover as hit after hit landed.

James pulled out his silver, beautifully engraved pocket watch. Fifteen minutes before the conference. Fifteen minutes trying to wrench the name from a suicidal stubborn boy. Fifteen minutes of cruelty. Fifteen minutes in which Greg was brought to death's door.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Okay this is what we've been waiting for. Don't forget to review for this before going on to the next chapter!**

Chapter 11

Nick paced back and forth, Grissom leaned against a wall fighting his every fiber not to join Nick in the pacing. It was five minutes until the conference. According to Nick, the kidnappers were going to state their demands, finally. Once they had the demands, they could make some progress. Plus they now knew that the witness was involved, sort of. They would have useful names that would bring them a step closer to finding Greg. And that was all that was important right now. Everyone was waiting tensely, a thick silence filling the room. Warrick sat stiffly on the couch, fists clenched tightly, still as stone. He was staring at the computer screen, already set up for the conference, waiting for a picture to appear.

They all jumped at the computer when the picture finally appeared, exactly on time. There was James, sitting in his chair as usual. Greg wasn't in sight and that rankled them to no end.

"Good afternoon, Warrick, Grissom, and Nick. What no Sara or Catherine? What a pity." Nick was bristling, teeth grinding together.

"Not that you would have anything to do with that." Grissom stated coolly. James smiled coyly.

"No, not at all."

"What do you want?! Where is Greg?!" Nick bellowed.

"My my, very to the point today are we? Very well, your dear Gregory is right here." two large men entered the screen carrying Greg who was completely limp. His head lolled ever so slightly. His body was a mess of black and blue bruising, almost completely solid coloring, massively distorted from swelling, and there was freely flowing blood everywhere coming from his stab wound, the gunshot and from elsewhere, though they couldn't see the source. His jeans were almost completely red they were so soaked with blood. One of the men grabbed a fistful of hair and yanked his head up so they could see his bruised face. His eyes were opened to slits. He was just barely conscious. It made them all nervous at how ragged and shallow his breathing was, he barely breathed at all.

"What did you do to him?" It was Warrick this time, unable to hold back his outrage.

"Well, after our little discussion with Nicky, our dear Greg tried to give us a false name, but wouldn't give any others. Apparently you need to work on his listening skills. Too bad you won't have the chance." they all bristled at that, Nick slamming a fist against the table, walking a short circle. He suddenly felt sick. He'd told Greg to give the name. It had nearly killed him. Grissom showed little except that he was breathing much harder and his fists were clenched, of his rage. They were all looking at Greg now. They could see the expression of pure fear and pain in his eyes as they sluggishly rolled about the room.

He could hear voices all around him. His vision was reduced to mere pinpoints straight ahead. He was so tired, scared, and in pain. He couldn't even lift his head, someone had grabbed his hair and was holding his head back. He was numb except for the pain. He just wanted to curl up under a rug and die. He didn't care about anything anymore. He didn't even try to pay attention to what the people around him were saying until he'd heard familiar voices.

The first he thought had been Grissom, but he was sure that it was all in his head until he heard Nick then Warrick. But they weren't here. They couldn't be here. Tiredly he tried to look for them. It was hard. He could barely make his eyes move in the direction he wanted and the world was unimaginably hazy. He could barely make out the blurry figures of his captors. He focused his pitiful gaze towards the voices of his friends.

He could just barely see the computer screen with Griss, Warrick and Nick within. He didn't get a long enough look to tell whether he was hallucinating or not because he was suddenly sinking back towards the abyss. He clawed madly to stay conscious for just a little longer. He had to know if his friends were there. He barely remained conscious, but he couldn't do anything but stare glazed ahead. The voices slowly faded away to almost nothing as he drifted farther away.

"What is it that you want?" It was Grissom demanding forcefully. He had to keep his focus, keep things moving. Greg was in very bad shape and time was something he didn't have now. They had to find him and find him fast.

"Well that is the question now isn't it? Lucky for Greg, I am not greedy." he paused for a moment. He had noticed that they had all shifted their focus back to Greg. He turned to look at his captive again. Greg had managed to focus his gaze on the computer screen for a short time, his throat working as if he were trying to say something, but nothing came out. After a moment he gave a weak cough as he sank further towards the floor, head lolling as far forward as the fist would allow, his eyes slipping closed in unconsciousness. The world stopped. They couldn't see him breathing.

"Hmmm…" he scowled.

Standing he left the screen for a moment, when he returned he held a pitcher in his hand. He slapped Greg's face for a moment, then circled to stand behind him for a moment when he got no response. He took two knuckles and ground them somewhere into Greg's back viciously. The moan he got was too quiet for those in the crime lab to hear, but James certainly heard it. Wanting the others to hear it as well he retrieved the pitcher of unknown contents, returning to stand behind him. With a big show, he splashed the contents across his back, completely soaking him. Greg screamed weakly, back arching away from the burning pain tremendously. The men that had been holding him, let him dropped to the floor with an agonizing thud and left him there.

They had all held their breath when they couldn't see whether Greg was breathing or not. They all leaned in close to the screen, squinting to see the rise and fall of his chest, but squinting didn't make anything clearer. They just couldn't tell. Nick barely noticed what James was doing, his attention solely devoted to Greg. He now lay precariously on his side, one arm stretched straight out under his head, the other pressed close to his body near his chest, helping him remain on his side. Nick's heart split and shattered as he lay there moaning weakly, his eyes now open, thickly glazed with pain, exhaustion, and the constant fear. He looked to barely be conscious. Every now and then a shudder would rack through his severely weakened body. He wasn't sure he would have any heart left before this ended. He was vaguely aware of Warrick shouting angrily.

"Hey, back off!" James regarded them for a moment.

"Very well, I'm finished. As I was saying, if you deliver Emmanuel, the gentlemen that you apprehended just recently, and I'll give you back your dear Gregory. After he gives me that name of course." they were silent for a moment. Greg was looking around lethargically, mumbling something too quietly for them to hear. The guy standing behind him kicked him fiercely. He cried out, barely breathing, and remained silent, again barely remaining conscious.

"We can't do that" Grissom remarked.

"You can and you will if you don't want me to kill your friend. But I am generous. I will give you twenty four hours before I'll do any more, to get him. I will then call you and give you the drop of point."

"We can't promise getting him released, especially that quickly."

"Well, if you truly value Greg's life, then it will be done. If not then I can get my guy other ways. I really don't care whether Gregory dies. Until then" the screen went black. The room paused in a thick silence. Nick, whom had remained silent almost the entire time, teeth clenched, swallow back the bile, couldn't hold it any longer and burst out of the room, full speed for the bathroom.

He kept hearing Greg moaning in pain echo through his ears, the images circling through his mind. He was gone for a long while, shaking from the violent heaving. He couldn't remember puking so violently ever before. Though he didn't think the puking was the real reason he was shaking so badly. He returned to an even thicker silence then when he'd left. Warrick had sunk back into the chair, and Grissom was now pacing furiously. They were all losing the tenuous grip they'd had on self-control.

"Are we going to do it?" Grissom stopped. Warrick looked up from his glazed stare for the first time. They all held their breath waiting for an answer.

"We're going to bring the guy back. Talk to him. Make it at least look like we're complying. After that I don't know." they nodded. No one would give up. Not on Greg. Not ever. Everyone jumped when the cell phone Nick was borrowing for everything now that his was hooked up to all kinds of stuff for contact with James. He couldn't remember who's phone it was, but he really didn't care. It never made it to the second ring before he answered.

"Stokes…yes…"he dived for pen and paper, writing down something furiously. "yes…yes. Uh huh….okay…thank you very much." he hung up and though he couldn't smile, he was definitely in a slightly better mood. "Warrick, you have anything to do right now?"

"No, why?" Nick turned the paper sideways and ripped it in half, handing one half to Warrick.

"These are names from the witness for us to look up. You get that half." They dove at the work like a furious storm of rage. All their frustrations vented into their research. Time passed quickly as page after page of information on each name ran off the machine. Grissom was at the hospital. He'd gone there after Warrick and Nick had gotten settled into the fury of their work.

There was still no news on Sara and Catherine was still unconscious, not expected to wake until at least the next day. Grissom was secretly glad. He was hoping to have Greg back before anybody currently hospitalized would wake up. He didn't want to have to explain how things were going to both Sara and Catherine and not be able to tell them that he had found Greg. It would be too hard. He left quickly after stopping by Catherine's room, getting to work on getting this Emmanuel guy back to the lab for questioning. He wouldn't admit it, but he was seriously considering giving the guy up to get Greg back, legally. Or not.

He returned to the lab hours ago. How many he didn't know exactly, he only knew that it was at least five. Warrick and Nick were armed to the teeth with printer paper and were using it almost faster than they could reload. They also drank dozens of cups of Mountain Dew trying to keep going. No one remembered the last time any of them had actually slept, but it was a long time ago. Archie made sure they had a steady supply but didn't bother trying to make them eat any more.

He knew it would only slow down the progress they were making and he would lose anyways. He would rather let them make loads of progress then to slow them down trying to get them to do something knowing he would lose. When he wasn't checking on Warrick and Nick to make sure neither had collapsed he was working madly on the tapes and recordings from the kidnappers. It was hard and extremely emotionally draining having to watch and dissect something like this, but after over ten hours of work, he found something.

Grissom was in his office, making calls, but mostly getting in fights with the people on the other line. His patients and self controlled demeanor was shot to oblivion. He didn't care about courtesy any longer. He was going to do anything it took to get Greg back. If that meant being rude, so be it. He had just slammed his phone shut angrily when Archie, Nick, and Warrick came rushing into the room.

"I've got something!" they shouted in unison. They all looked at each other.

"Nick, Warrick tell me what you've got on the way." Nick started immediately and they briskly walked to Archie's lab.

"The name James was a real name. He's been suspected of being a crime lord for decades but anybody that could actually pin anything on him died before they could come forward. We've got an address in San Francisco that might be where Greg is." They entered the lab.

"Let me see that address." it was Archie. He smiled. "Okay I was going over the video conference and discovered they weren't set up at the same angle in the room as all the other times. That was their slip up, though I don't think they realized it was even possible." He was at a monitor clicking and zooming swiftly, not taking the time to explain. "I found this."

It was in the corner, zoomed in severely and cleaned up though still blurry. A bright neon sign, just poking into view through a window that had been covered, though from this angle, they could see out partially. This was mere luck.

"I ran the address and compared it to the description of Greg's surroundings. The address is in San Francisco, and it across the street from the address you found Nick." their eyes lit up and their hearts stopped. They'd found Greg! Instantly they were rallying the troops, calling everyone qualified to get ready. Brass was getting all the back up they could get. Within ten minutes they were ready and speeding with one of the biggest escorts and back up seen in one group for almost a decade. They were serious. If this failed, which they wouldn't allow, it wouldn't be because of a lack of man power.

Warrick gripped the steering wheel white knuckled, the pedal literally pressing firmly into the floor, the vehicle whipping through the roads, surrounded by black and whites. Nick gripped the seat for dear life unwilling to tell Warrick to slow down or even try to drive carefully. His seat belt was however as tight as it would go, barely allowing him to breathe.

Grissom was in another car with Brass, both deadly silent. All of them were imagining the things they would do to the guys that had done this to Greg once they had Greg safe and sound at the hospital with dozens of guards willing to jump in front of a bullet for him. Which in their opinions and looking at the turnout for back up, all of it volunteered, the problem would be more of limiting the number of them than of finding someone willing to do it. Greg was well liked, and in his hours of need, it clearly showed.

Nick stared at the clock. Ten minutes of driving quickly grew to twenty, thirty, and higher. It wasn't until almost an hour and a half that he lost track.

Hours later they arrived to a screeching halt in front of the large, slightly secluded two story home. They could see that a window on the second story, near the street was boarded up. Nick didn't try to staunch the rage that was building up within him now that he'd actually seen the window. Warrick and Nick had, in their opinions, the most important job. Find and protect Greg. And though no one had told them and probably would contest, it would be with their very lives if they had to.

The cars barely came to a stop before they jumped out and barreled towards the house, SWAT just now entering. It was decided when they got to the house they would go in immediately and fast. They burst through the door, a chaotic medley of officers shouting at criminals, and a few shots being fired. Warrick and Nick darted briefly into each room, glancing around for Greg.

They split up at some point covering more ground. They were now ahead of the original force, a few officers rushing to keep up with them and provide cover. He came to the room where the tapes had been recorded, assaulted by the overpowering smell of lemons. He barely took the time to see that Greg wasn't there before continuing onward. He went through two more rooms in the downstairs before he saw it, a door that led down to the basement. He opened the door quickly but in total silence, the officer following him finally catching up.

He bolted down the stairs, recklessly jumping them three at a time. Something told him this was it. He was so close. He was right. He cleared the stairs and saw a sight that boiled his blood like never before. Greg was limp on the floor, hands handcuffed behind his back again, a massive brute standing above him, kicking his chest and ribs fiercely. Nick didn't even think.

He charged the guy, dropping his gun. They collided, slamming into the wall. He bombarded the guy with punches and kicks fueled by his furious rage. The guy never had a chance, so swept over by the onslaught that he was unable to even get a punch in defense. Abruptly someone was pulling him back, taking him from his assault. He whipped around to see the officer that had been following him, to shove him away, but the only two words he said, completely deflated him.

"Help Greg" he looked back as his friend and ran to him. Greg was completely slack, not a movement to show he was alive. Nick swiftly removed the handcuffs only to have Greg's hands fall limply to the floor. He was elated to find a pulse. It was barely there but it existed. He hissed and ground his teeth at the sight of Greg's shredded back, blood oozing from all over. He could see tiny fibrous clumps of pulp dried onto his back. Instantly his mind connected the overpowers lemon smell and the rage boiled anew. Carefully, he shifted Greg into his arms, holding his back off the ground, the broken wrist laid across his stomach. He looked so fragile that Nick was afraid that just holding him, as gently as he was, would break him. He was grateful for every shuttering breath that Greg took. He looked so broken.

"Ahh Greg" he swallowed back the lump growing in his throat. To his surprise and joy Greg's eyes fluttered open, settling at just above half mast. They were glazed and almost unseeing, but slowly they cleared some, the confusion, pain and fear showing through clear as day again. Nick smiled weakly.

"Hey Greg, welcome back" he didn't mean for his voice to sound so shaky but he couldn't help it. Greg's throat worked to say something. First he got a weak moan then he actually got words.

"N-Nick?"

"Yeah buddy, I'm here. You're safe now." he felt the unbroken hand grip his kevlar vest weakly as Greg broke down in front of him.

"D-don't l-l-leave me, d-d-don't e-ever 've me" his voice was barely a whisper and slurring but Nick understood.

"Shhh…it's okay, I'm not leaving, I won't ever leave you. It's okay." he looked up for the first time to see Warrick standing there, stunned. The tapes had made it look so unreal, and now they were seeing it for real, and it feel like a ton of bricks dropped on them.

Nick's attention whipped back to Greg as he coughed violently, his whole body jerking painfully with the effort. Blood poured from his mouth, surging renewed by each new cough. Nick sat him up a little more so he could breathe easier. "Where's the ambulance?" That was when Grissom came into the room holstering his gun.

"The ambulance crashed, it's not coming." they all gaped. Nick felt like hunting down that goon he'd beaten and finishing what he started. Instead he focused his attention solely on Greg, slumped against his chest, his breathing unbelievably labored, head lolling in an effort to hold it up, struggling to remain conscious. Nick's world stopped when he saw Greg's lips and fingernails turning blue near the base, his skin cold against his own. He looked up at Warrick terrified for Greg.

"Bring my car to the door, we're bringing him." he gathered Greg up in his arms like a fragile child and stood, desperately trying to be gentle. Greg groaned again.

"C-c-cold." his grip on the vest slipped free, falling limply to his stomach.

"I know Greg, we're gonna get you warmed up in no time."

" 'kay" he was barely conscious.

"Come on Greg, stick with me. I need you to stay awake. Greg?" he stole a glance at his friend when no response came. He was conscious, but just barely. In all honesty he was amazed Greg had managed this long, but he was grateful.

Warrick had the car ready and waiting, the door open. A down pour of rain lashed out at them, in a torrent like never before. Greg whimpered and tried to shrink into Nick. He scowled and climbed quickly into the car, laying Greg across the back seat, which now had a blanket across it. They closed the door and were off. He dug under the seat and found everything he'd bought the other day, now grateful for the items. The first thing he did was put the oxygen mask on Greg and turn the tank up really high.

Next he took out the gauze and went to work on the far too numerous cuts and gashes, some of them stopped bleeding with ease, others took work. The progress was slow whether it be in the trip to the hospital or Nick's doctoring, both were going slow. The torrential down pour was forcing Warrick to drive far too slowly for everyone.

At some point Greg roused from the lethargic, semi-conscious state, though only enough to whimper and arch his back slightly, desperate to relieve the fiery pain from his shredded back. He squirmed to get away from the pain. He had to get away, but the only thing he found was more pain. He was panicking. He couldn't breathe, something was covering his mouth and nose which his tired mind linked to him not being able to breathe, everything hurt, and he was lost.

Suddenly there was a voice talking to him. At first he ignored it thinking it was his captor, but then he started to relax. The voice was familiar, calming. He felt safe again. Slowly he calmed and drifted back into the semi-consciousness. Nick had seen Greg beginning to panicking struggling to get away. He didn't even think, just acted.

"Shh…it's okay Greg. You're safe. Just relax, you need to lay still. You're safe." he saw Greg hesitate, then slowly relax back to semi-consciousness. He pulled out a blanket and covered Greg's upper body before moving to the leg. The hole from the bullet in his jeans was too big, Cautiously he slipped two fingers into the hole and ripped them open all the way down.

He gasped and swore at the condition of his leg. The bullet wound was unimaginably swollen, a fiery red, puffy, oozing blood and puss sluggishly, with red streaks working up towards his heart. Further down his leg it was clearly broken, jags of bone poking through the skin and terribly swollen. He started to put some pressure on the bullet wound with a wad of gauze but it started to bleed heavier with the pressure and Greg whimpered weakly so he left it alone.

It wasn't bleeding very heavily anyways, not that Greg had much blood left to lose. He piled the rest of the blankets across Greg hoping to retain what little body heat he had left. He moved to Greg's head, holding a hand on his forehead, stroking the hair away from his face gently, while the other hand remained planted on his neck, praying for each weakening pulse that he got. He pressed a little harder trying not to lose the pulse.

"Warrick hurry up." Warrick looked in the rear mirror and met Nick's eyes, the desperation in them was all it took for him to press the pedal harder. It seemed like an eternity before they arrived at the hospital. Warrick and Grissom jumping out to find help immediately. Nick stayed with Greg begging him to keep breathing. An army of doctors were just running out of the hospital with a gurney when he lost the pulse. He pressed deep looking for it but he couldn't find it. He yanked the blankets away, pressing his ear to Greg's chest. Nothing.

The doctors arrived. Panicked, Nick lifted Greg to the gurney and was quickly shoved out of the way. They pressed the paddles to his chest, his body arching off the gurney. They shocked him again and again. He didn't know how many times they'd done it before at last, a weak pulse was found. Then they were running away from them, into the hospital, shouting at each other rapidly.

So soon after finally getting him back, he was taken from him again. Greg was gone.


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Okay, another round of hugs for the team. They finally rescued Greg, but will he live? MWUAHAHAHAHAHA! Don't forget to review!**

Chapter 12

He just stood there, too shocked to move. The rain drenched his clothes, washing away the copious amounts of blood on his clothes, but his skin still crawled. It would always be there, long after he'd washed away the blood. That sickly feeling, that he was covered in Greg's blood. So much blood. The rain poured over him, disguising the tears that now fell. They had destroyed Greg physically, and he hoped they hadn't completely destroyed him mentally, but he was certainly close.

Greg's few word echoed through his mind. He stared at the door they'd taken Greg through so long ago, or was it mere seconds ago? He didn't know how long he'd stood there. The rain felt good, oddly cleansing, and yet he couldn't help but feel so dirty. He never heard the booming thunder or saw the flashes of lightning that split the sky, he only saw and heard Greg those few moment in the house, when he'd realized that he was safe.

Warrick and Grissom stood watching Nick like a ticking time bomb. They had stood staring at the doors stunned at first, but they were back to their senses again. But Nick, was still staring at the doors, unmoving, just letting the rain pour over him. They stood silently not sure whether to interrupt Nick. They glanced at each other for a moment. Warrick nodded letting Grissom know he could go inside.

He wanted to call the Las Vegas hospital and find out how Sara and Catherine were, but couldn't leave Nick, not like this. But Warrick indicated he was willing to stay. Once Grissom had gone into the hospital, Warrick looked back at Nick and really assessed him.

He had some of the darkest bags under his eyes he'd ever seen on a person, his eyes sunken, all over disheveled. Warrick wondered if he'd eaten since Greg was kidnapped. He hadn't actually seen him down anything other than the coffee and Mountain Dew. He could make out a slight shake beginning to take hold and wondered whether he was crying or shivering. Suddenly Nick fell to his knees and just stayed there.

"Nick! Nick are you okay?" he was crouching next to him now. Nick looked him in the eye shakily.

"We…we almost lost him Warrick, we could _still_ lose him." Warrick gulped. He didn't know if he could provide the comforting words Nick needed now, but he tried.

"Nick, he's made it this far. He's safe now, with the help he needs. He's a strong person to have made it this far. He'll keep on fighting. You understand? He will pull through." he seemed to think this over.

"But…"

"No, he will pull through." Nick stared another moment, thoughtfully.

"But what if he doesn't? What if Greg does die? What will we do? Have you thought of that? I don't know about you, but he's been a little brother to me. I don't know if I could get past losing him." Warrick was speechless now. Nick had hit it on the spot, for him too. He may not have been as close as Nick had been with Greg, but Greg had still been a like a little brother to him. He swallowed down the lump that was growing again.

"I don't know what to tell you, but I'm not giving up on Greg yet. He's made it this far." Nick bit his lip for a moment. Then he nodded to Warrick. He would have faith in Greg to pull through. He took several deep breaths, reining in his emotions again, but he couldn't stop shaking. Warrick gave him that scolding look.

"What?"

"When's the last time you ate?"

"Ummmm…."

"Yeah that's what I though. Alright let's get to the waiting room. Then I'm getting a mounded plate of food, and you are going to eat every bite." he started to object but never got the chance.

"Ah! Every bite." Nick scowled, with a weak smile beginning to break through.

"Fine, as long as you bring _good_ food." Warrick chuckled.

"Deal." he helped a soaked Nick to his feet as they trudged wearily into the hospital, up to the waiting room. It was about then that he noticed how cold he was and that there wasn't a dry spot on him. He also realized that though the rain had washed away most of the blood, there was still a goodly amount of blood on him, which still made his skin crawl so he made a pit stop to a restroom and changed into a set of greens.

They weren't all that comfortable, or warm, but they were better than what he'd had, which he just threw away. He never wanted to see those clothes again. As expected Warrick was there with a plate, mounded with food as promised, and he ate every bite. Then the waiting began. Grissom was the first to be pacing, while Nick ate and Warrick supervised him, insisting on all the food being gone.

Hours passed feeling like days. They all took turns pacing, demanding answers, calling to check on Sara and Catherine. Cath was unconscious still, and Sara was critical. They weren't giving her very good chances. Grissom hadn't told Nick or Warrick, but the doctors weren't expecting her to live through the night. He just couldn't tell them, not yet. He was still praying the doctors were wrong. He swallowed the lump in his throat but it remained lodged in place.

At some point the hospital staff took them to a private waiting room with three semi-comfy couches with fluffy pillows and really warm blankets. Warrick and Nick were stretched out, but neither were sleeping. He could see that Nick was fighting hard not to sleep. Warrick was fighting too, but he'd had more sleep than Nick and was still probably at least an hour away before exhaustion won out. Nick on the other hand, was fighting a losing battle much closer to an end.

He was so tired. But he couldn't sleep. Every time he closed his eyes he saw Greg, when they found him in the house. His mind replayed the moment when he saw that goon kicking Greg, handcuffed and too weak to even try to defend himself. Never before had he wanted to kill someone so badly as that moment, when he came down the stairs. He felt slightly odd that it didn't scare or bother him in any way that he'd desired, and nearly did kill that man.

He was sure he would have killed him if it weren't for that officer that pulled him off. His eyes began to drift closed heavily. At first he let them stay closed, but then after a moment, he saw Greg again, whimpering in pain, begging him not to leave. His eyes snapped open again. They traveled to the clock, two minutes had passed. Grissom was staring at him. He knew that he should just sleep, but he couldn't, he had to stay awake. For Greg. Or at least he tried. He had no idea how much time had passed, but he was soon fast asleep.

_Everything was dark. The rain was unbelievable. It was all he could hear, thundering in his ears. Lightning split the sky, lighting up the dark house. He shivered. It was so cold in here. Why was it so cold? Something about this house was wrong, terribly wrong. He couldn't figure it out. It ate at him, gnawing and nagging him, but he couldn't figure it out. This place, it was a terrible place. He stalked through the house. Soon he found the door. It looked strangely familiar, and it brought with it fear. He gulped and opened it. He descended down the stairs. He felt alone. Not a living soul was with him. He didn't want to continue, but when he tried to stop, turn around, he couldn't. He had no control of his body. His mind screamed of horrible things happening here like a distant memory, but what those were he didn't know. Everything was silent except the thundering rain. _

He cleared the stairs, unable to move from that spot, feet planted like a concrete slab. Before him was Greg, lying on the floor, hands cuffed behind his back, completely limp. The man from earlier again stood above him, kicking fiercely. Nick tried to move to tackle him again, but he couldn't move. He watched in horror as the man kept kicking and kicking, the thuds were eerily silent. All was silent now. His mind supplied the whimpers and cries of pain. It seemed like an eternity passed of him helplessly watching Greg get beaten to death. He couldn't break free of the invisible force making him unmovable. Then Greg's eyes dragged sluggishly to meet his. The pain and fear in them was unbearable. His voice was barely audible it was so weak, but that didn't disguise the hatred in them.

"You said you'd save me….you lied."

Nick woke with a start, fighting back the tears, bathed in sweat, heart pounding. He blinked at his surroundings for a moment, then regained his senses. He looked to find Warrick getting up blearily and Grissom getting off the couch, heading to the doctor who'd just walked in the room. He jumped up immediately, practically charging the doctor.

"How's Greg? Is he gonna be okay? How is he?" the doctor sighed tiredly.

"I wish I could say he was fine, but he's lost almost all the blood he had, we're giving him transfusions by the dozens still. He had to have emergency surgery for heavy internal bleeding, his lung was severely punctured, he has five broken ribs and three cracked. A broken collar bone, his wrist is broken in at least four places which will need surgery to repair, burns all over his torso, his leg is broken in two spots below the knee, he was shot in the thigh, but he was lucky with that one, no arteries were nicked, and there isn't a lot of muscle damage. He has a severe concussion, gashes all over the place, he has a massive septicemic infection, and his entire back has been shredded." they all stared stunned. That was far more than they'd expected in reality. Yes it was so much less than their imaginations created but this was unbelievable.

"W-will he live?" it was Nick.

"I really can't say. He should already be dead. We lost him twice during surgery and twice more while he was in recovery. At this point, the odds are greatly stacked against him. His chances will improve with each day he lives through."

"Can we see him" Warrick inquired. The doctor looked hesitant, pursing his lips for a moment.

"Alright, but one at a time, and only for five minutes" it wasn't long, but they were elated at that much. They followed silently, anxious to see Greg. They had no idea what Greg would look like, they knew it wouldn't be good, but when they finally saw him, they could never have been prepared. Nick went in first. All he could do was stand and stare paralyzed.

Before him was Greg, surrounded by machines of every kind, the steady mechanical whoosh and beep of the respirator that drew breath for him, and told them his heart was still beating, though it was extremely weak and unsteady. There was very little of Greg that could actually be seen. His right leg was in a cast below the knee, the thigh heavily bandaged, his entire torso was wrapped in layer upon layer of gauze, most of it stained with blood already, wires poking out of the bandaging all over.

His neck was bare but he could see the two long cuts that were mostly healed, the nicks on his chin. His head was heavily bandaged, two long gash like stains of blood that were thankfully not growing. The only skin that was visible was his face, left arm, and leg. The skin was so pale it was near transparent. He had a thick layer of perspiration dripping down his skin.

Slowly, afraid that moving might somehow make Greg disappear, gently he slipped his hand into Greg's unharmed hand, cautious of the tubes and wires hooked to it, the other unavailable with the splint. His skin was extremely hot and clammy. Nick gulped, he'd never seen Greg so still. Even in unconsciousness Greg looked afraid and in pain. He fought back the tears that seemed to be threatening again.

"G-Greg, I need you to p-pull through okay. You can't d-die on me okay. Just keep fighting." Nick blinked furiously, having to look away for a moment. This was so much harder and worse than he'd expected. His mind, knowing it couldn't be right, had thought Greg would look so much better now that he had help. But he was wrong, he looked so much worse with all these machines living for him, revealing the true nature of his condition.

"I-I know I never told you but…but you've been like a brother to me and I can't l-lose you." he jumped slightly as the doctor knocked lightly on the door. It was time for him to leave. He brushed his eyes quickly, dispelling the tears and looked at Greg last one time before leaving. Warrick went in next while he and Griss waited outside silently.

Suddenly Nick was off like a shot. Grissom watched him go surprised but never had the chance to ask where he was going. He marched away with purpose, the dream exploding through his head. He wasn't in control of Greg living through this, but he could keep the one promise he made. When he returned, Grissom was just coming out of the room, his turn over. The doctor couldn't stop him before he was back in the room with Greg, sitting in the chair that he'd taken, guarding over his friend.

"Sir you have to leave, you can't stay here."

"I'm not leaving."

"You don't have a choice"

"You can't make me leave. I'll stay out of the way, but I AM NOT LEAVING HIM." Nick was clipped and short with the doctor, not giving him any chance of winning. After more one sided arguing, that Nick was unresponsive to, the doctor gave up and left in a huff. Nick didn't care. He'd promised Greg he wouldn't leave him. He would not be a liar. Greg needed him, and he would be there for Greg. No matter what.


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: Okay, so here is the next chap...also, I have sent my villains into hiding. They have been receiving death threats for many chapters. I want you to know that I have chapter 19 in production and unfortunately, I still need my bad guys alive(but they will eventually get what's coming to them) let me know what you think.**

Chapter 13

Warrick stood just in the doorway, watching Nick and Greg. Ever since Nick had gotten the chair, the only time he left the room was to use the restroom, and that was few and very far apart. That had been three days ago, and no matter what anyone tried, he wouldn't budge. On occasion he would have to get out of the doctors way, which he was quick to do. For the three days that had passed, which felt like three months, Greg had flat lined three times. Twice on day two and once yesterday. It was now nearing two in the afternoon of day four and still no horrid occurrence. They were all praying that it never came. Though the doctors were not expecting him to live, they were saying that he had improved some. He didn't look better. If anything he looked worse than ever since he'd come. His skin had taken on this strange, salmon color as it warred between being deathly pale and flushed with fever. He was so still, they had trouble convincing themselves that it really was Greg lying there, barely alive, kept alive by machines. It made him shudder.

He heaved a weary sigh and stepped into the room. Nick didn't hear him. He was staring at Greg, oblivious to all else. He put a hand on his shoulder. Nick blinked surprised a few times before looking at Warrick and the bag of stuff slung over his shoulder. He smiled tiredly. After the first night Grissom needed to go back to Las Vegas being supervisor, and someone needed to be there since Catherine was expected to wake soon, but someone also had to keep an eye on Nick. Eventually it was decided that Grissom would stay in Vegas, Nick in Frisco, and Warrick would go between as needed.

Today he was bringing Nick every outfit he owned, with whatever random books and movies he had lying around the house. He didn't know why he'd grabbed the movies, this room didn't have a tv, but maybe the books would help Nicky distract himself. He dropped the bag silently in the corner. They both knew that no matter how loud they got there was no way they would disturb Greg's rest, but they couldn't stop themselves from trying not to. Warrick stood on the other side of the bed from Nick.

"So how's he doing?"

"I guess you could say he's better, though how I'm not sure. They can't get the fever down."

"But he's improving, I suppose that's all we can ask for."

"I could ask for this to have never happened." Warrick sighed.

"Yeah but we can't turn back time and change it."

"Too bad." suddenly Nick quirked a smile. "Then I could find out how long it takes him to do his hair." Warrick snorted. They'd been desperately trying to joke around as if they weren't on the verge of losing Greg still. It made it almost like they weren't. They prayed that if they hoped and acted like he'd pull through, that it might make it true. The chuckles died down quickly as they always did. Nick bit his lip. The silences that occurred now were always awkward. They needed Greg in it to keep things moving smoothly, he always had something to say.

"How are you holding up." Nick gave a silent, sad laugh.

"As well as can be," selectively forgetting about the nightmares of Greg dying and accusing him of being a failure, "how's Catherine and Sara?"

"Sara's still critical. The doctors aren't saying much, just that she's stable for now. Catherine's doing really well, they're expecting her to wake up anytime now."

"That's good. Griss staying at the hospital till she's awake?"

"Yeah, I've been a messenger boy doing his bidding so he could still run night shift and stay with Cath, Ecklie's really unhappy about it, not that anyone is listening to him." Nick smiled weakly, he was doing that more often, but it wasn't getting easier to do.

"That's good. Cath shouldn't wake up alone. Especially since she doesn't know we found Greg yet." back to the odd silence.

"Is Greg going to be Greg?" Warrick stated suddenly.

"What?"

"I keep wondering. When he wakes up after this, will he still, you know, be Greg?" Nick was chewing his lip again, another thing he found himself doing more often. He had been thinking about that question for the past two days. The silence that followed wasn't awkward, just of deep thought.

"I've been thinking about that a lot too. I decided. I don't know how Greg is going to be mentally or emotionally, but whatever the case, I'm going to be here when he wakes up and be there for him the entire time."

"You're right. I'm thinking too far. He's still trying to just stay alive. Sorry."

"Don't be. We need to think about that really hard. He's going to need all of us and we need to be prepared to help him get past this when he does wake up." Suddenly Warrick was uncomfortable being in the room. It just wasn't right talking about Greg with him in the room, barely alive. He gulped.

"Well, I-I should be getting back. Grissom needs a lot of help handling the night shift and…and the hospital visits. Call when you need anything." Nick never got the chance to respond before Warrick bolted out of the room needing air.

--oo0oo--

Everything was heavy. Unimaginably heavy. She tried to make contact with the rest of her body, but she was oddly numb. A consciousness floating in nothingness. She couldn't form a coherent thought and if she did, which was unlikely, it never lasted long enough for her to know what that thought was exactly or even vaguely. She was drifting back and forth, unable to discern awake from sleep. Then came the vague ache. She didn't know where it came from exactly, but she knew she was aching, without actually feeling it.

Slowly, the sounds came to her. A very faint hiss, then a steady beeping, all else was utterly silent. Some time later she realized that everything smelled…clean. She tried to think back to the last thing she remembered, but her mind wouldn't cooperate. She felt herself getting mad as more and more time, which she found impossible to judge, passed and she couldn't remember what happened, where she was, or why she couldn't move.

After what seemed like an eternity she felt like she was being watched. That really motivated her to open her eyes. They felt like lead. At first she could only get them to twitch slightly but soon her lids slowly peeled back to reveal a very white and bright ceiling above her. Various machines loomed above her, beeping and whirring about their tasks.

They slipped closed again, for a while. When she opened them again she found them still heavy, but was able to keep them open longer. She dragged them confused to take in her surroundings. A hospital. She was in a hospital. Why? At her side, she saw a familiar form, sprawled in a chair, deep circles under his eyes and worry lines that aged him twenty years older.

"Griss?" she was surprised at the weakness of her voice. But his reaction was more surprising. He jumped up flailing for a moment, nearly slipping out of his chair. It took him a moment to collect himself. He looked at her slightly shocked. She tried to smile but couldn't quite find the strength to lift the corners of her mouth. He was suddenly standing, hovering, above her.

"Catherine, you're awake."

"Hey Griss" she tried to swallow but her mouth felt like sand paper.

"Here, I'll get ice chips." she nodded glad to get some. While he was gone she found that one hand was in a cast, but she was finally able to move her hand, though not very much. It was about this time that her memories of Greg's kidnapping and everything that had happened came back to her, though she couldn't remember why she was in the hospital. She relished the ice chips when she got them. She felt much better after half a cup of them, not that the cup was very big though. Grissom had just gotten settled when she asked the question burning in her mind.

"Did you find Greg?" he hesitated. "Gil?"

"Yes we found him."

"Alive?"

"Barely, but yes he's alive."

"I'm sure Sara will guard him like a hawk for a long time after this, she has a soft spot for him." Grissom looked away guiltily. The team was a mess right now. And there was nothing he could do about it.  
"Gil.?!" she had a somewhat forceful question.

"Um…Sara doesn't know he's been found." she never gave him a chance to elaborate.

"Why? Why doesn't she know Gilbert Grissom?" Griss winced.

"Sara…Sara was shot by a sniper seven days ago. She's alive, but the doctors aren't sure yet about her recovery." Catherine gaped aghast. That couldn't be right. Why would anyone shoot Sara?

"Why?" she stared numbly at her hands.

"She was on her way into the lab with some incriminating rolls of film for your case. We have them. Somehow she knew to hide them." her mind was going a thousand miles a minute.

"Wait, my case? What do you mean? As a matter of fact, why am I in the hospital. I don't remember."

"You were in a car accident, but the film was developed shows a different picture. The skid marks can't be made by and unintentional accident."

"What" this was too much, first Sara, or well, apparently her then Sara, and now this.

"You were run off the road. It had to be a hit." she gulped. How had they gotten here?

"Oh wait! What about Nick and Warrick. Don't tell me something happened to them! Please don't."

"No Catherine. Nick literally won't leave Greg longer than it takes to use the restroom. And Warrick is bouncing between Frisco and helping me with night shift. They're fine." she sank back to the pillow relieved. She could feel the exhaustion creeping up on her again. She took a deep breath.

"You'll keep me updated right?"

"If you promise to get well as quickly as possible. I can't keep this up for long." she smiled at him.

"Deal." her eyes drifted close and he took that as his cue to leave. The one thing he knew was that all of this had to end, and soon, before someone else got hurt.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Jim Brass stood, looking into the little gray room with nothing but a table, a chair, and an occupant. An occupant that he found himself hating with every fiber of his being. He could happily give up his badge at this point to just kill him. But he couldn't do that. Even though this man deserved the slowest most horrible death, which in his opinion would still fall short of what he deserved, it was wrong. They had a judicial system for a reason, and it was because of this very reason. If they let people just kill other people because they believed it was deserved--even if it was--then the world would be chaotic at best.

The man within sat quietly, looking completely serene, and was currently examining his nails, buffing and digging dirt out from under them. The very atmosphere he gave off of careless relaxation as if he were on vacation was making everyone mad. Those that would either be conducting or watching the interrogations had to listen to the recorded phone calls as well as watch all the video tapes involving Greg. It had left them with a bubbling rage even if they were not even the remotest of acquaintances, of which all those conducting the interviews were just that, complete strangers.

They weren't allowing for any loop holes that this guy's lawyer, whom was among the best around, could use. The entire lab, regulars and guests were possessed by a strange fervor. Every sliver of evidence was triple processed, by three different people and a lawyer that could testify that no evidence was tampered with or modified in any way. Never in their lives had they processed a crime and crime scene so tightly and water proof that no lawyer could poke holes in their findings.

They had decided to leave the man in the room for a long while, try to get him irritated, impatient, easy to slip up. But it didn't seem to be working. The man was just simply content admiring his nails in that room for the past hour as was unheard of. Eventually they just gave up on waiting, it wasn't going to work on this guy, so they began. One of the interrogators walked calmly into the room a file that he placed on the corner of the table, unopened. The man sitting handcuffed watched him intently but showed no signs of concern, worry, or even eagerness to start a conversation.

"Well, James Modoc, it seems you've finally been caught." the man leaned back in his chair leisurely.

"I suppose. A small interruption in my schedule." the interrogator quirked an eyebrow.

"You know. Not many people consider life in jail, possibly the needle, a small interruption of any schedule."

"I'm not many people. I'm just one simple man." he smiled.

"Interesting, for such a simple man, you've got a life filled with complexities. Complexities, that seem to have caused a great deal of harm to Greg Sanders." he opened the file for the first time and displayed the vivid photographs that had been takes at an opportune time of Greg's visible injuries, which were far too numerous. The man eyed them at a leisurely pace, not rushing over them, like one whom was looking at a picture of a rather boring landscape, and not graphic images of a man having been beaten nearly to death. Brass found himself having to take deep breaths.

"There is nothing complex about these." James stated coolly.

"How do you figure that James?"

"Well, it's simple. If you have an obstacle in the way, you remove it, if you need information, you get it, the means that you get it are simple, any way you can. Simple." he pushed the photos back towards the file and leaned back again in his chair with a casual sigh. The interrogator sauntered to lean against the wall, contemplating the next step.

"So why did you do this to Sanders?"

"Do what?"

"Okay, I'll say it in small words for a simpleton like yourself. Why did you attack Greg Sanders, nearly beating him to death?"

"I couldn't possibly have done this, I'm just a simpleton." the interrogator felt like slamming his head on a table.

"Any simpleton could beat a man to near death, it takes intelligence to get away with it, something you obviously aren't." There it was a small flash of anger. It quickly disappeared. The interrogator smiled, this was the opening, the profiler in him saw it clear as day.

"Seems like you're the failure of a long family history. Let's see, both parents are well known geniuses, then there seems to be a couple of generations beyond that, with lots of geniuses, and then you show up. The family simpleton, it's a wonder they didn't dump a familial disgrace such as yourself in the nearest dumpster. Where you belong." all this was said in a cool collected tone, as a matter of fact. Throughout the entirety of the speech Modoc had slowly lost the mask he'd worn, the expression of rage ever present, his jawing twitching, veins popping out. By the end his face was nearly purple and he was shaking with rage. Neither were paying attention to the lawyer that was advising him not to say anything.

What happened next was a shock to everyone. One moment Modoc had been sitting in the chair, and the next he was almost literally flying over the table, a gun appearing from nowhere in his hand, lunging at the CSI that had been interrogating. The lawyer gave a cowardly squeal and ran out of the room. He brought the gun down on the CSI's head with full force.

He recoiled, slamming into the wall, unable to recover before blow after blow slammed into his head. It didn't take long for the him to crumple to the floor, head lolling as he fought to remain conscious. The suspect quickly found the key and had one cuff off before he heard the shouts of the approaching cavalry. He hauled the CSI up swiftly, holding him as a shield, arms pinned to the left side of his chest. His head lolled to his chest limply, weaving slightly in small circles, quickly losing ground at remaining consciousness.

The others froze before them, their weapons trained on the pair standing in the doorway. He shoved the gun under his hostage's chin forcefully, bringing his head up so everyone could see the blood trailing from it more clearly. He gave a weak groan but did nothing to struggle. The others tightened their grips on their guns, a nerve struck.

"GET BACK!"

"Let him go!"

"GET BACK OR I'LL SHOOT!"

"Let him go, there's no way out, just let him go!" he cocked back the hammer threateningly.

"I'LL SHOOT HIM, GET BACK!" both parties backed away tensely, neither lowering their weapons. The door banged shut suddenly, shutting them out. Modoc slung the hostage across the room, slamming him against the wall. The fight for consciousness quickly lost when his head bounced off the wall, sinking heavily to the floor, his head repeating the action on the floor. He jammed a chair under the doorknob hastily, reverting to a panicked pace about the room.

This wasn't supposed to happen. He hadn't meant to attack the agent, put he'd pressed a sensitive nerve, and hard. How had they even found him. He'd been careful, he was always careful, they couldn't have found him. So how did they? The only thought that came to mind was being betrayed, but who would do that? There was no reason to betray him, everyone that worked for him knew that he took care of his own. He must have let something slip, that was the only way.

Time ticked by slowly and his blood cooled He shot a vicious glare at his hostage before walking to the file fallen to the floor. He flipped through it, glancing at the photos and documents indifferently. It was interesting, the perspective they had on these past events. It was amusing. His thoughts were broken by a shaky groan. He looked up to find the CSI conscious, desperately attempting to sit up and failing miserably. The room was spinning crazily and his head hurt like nothing he'd ever known before. Grinning like a maniac that he was he loomed over the dazed CSI. Deftly he cuffed him, making sure that they were cruelly tight around his wrists. He grabbed a fistful of hair and yanked him to sit up swiftly, the only thing keeping him from swaying back to the floor was Modoc's tight grip.

"What's your name CSI?" his glazed eyes narrowed, confusion apparent.

"Wha?" he slurred. He never had a chance, not having seen it coming. Modoc yanked his arms above his head and landed a vicious well aimed kick to his chest. He would have wheezed painfully if he could breath at all. He desperately tried to curl into a protective ball but with amazing power, Modoc swung him away from the wall so he was stretched to his full length, completely exposed, arms held out by a tight fist around the cuff chain links. He couldn't hold back a pained groan once he could draw a ragged, painful breath.

"What's your name CSI?"

"S-Siler" he gasped not wanting to repeat the performance. The suspect smiled wider.

"See that wasn't so hard. Now, you must be a good profiler, because unfortunately for you, you knew which button to push with me, and I really don't like people pushing my buttons. Let this be a lesson to you." the fear that flashed through Siler's eyes was priceless to Modoc.

The kicks were fierce, swift, and perfectly aimed to cause the most pain and damage. The cries of pain echoed through the room. He raged against him oblivious to the shrill rings of the phone in Siler's pocket, he just continued to vicious beating.

It felt like an eternity to Siler, before the man ran out of breath, the kicks slowing to a stop, his arms dropped hard to the floor. His moans didn't register to be coming from him as he sluggishly attempted to curl into a ball. He didn't register the phone being removed from his pocket, or the conversation now taking place between his captor, and the horde of CSI just outside the door. He couldn't seem to suck in enough air. It took all of his strength and focus just to breath. It didn't take him long to fall into oblivion.

Modoc stood over the CSI, unconscious before him. The conversation on the phone had not gone well at all. Of course they'd called frantically to get him distracted from beating the man to death, but it hadn't worked. He'd ignored the phone in a blind rage until he was too out of breath to continue. By that time the man had been a bloody mess, unable to hold consciousness for more than a minute. He was now wondering what to do next. They had been honest when saying there was no way out, but he had to find a way. He wasn't finished yet. He had to get out of here.

The CSI groan, curling a bit tighter but didn't regain consciousness. Modoc sneered at him. It was his fault that they were in the predicament in the first place. He began to pace again as he thought through his options. Somehow he had to get out of this mess. He certainly didn't have a chance while he was in the interrogation room. He needed to change locations without getting shot. He wondered whether he knew this building well enough to travel through it, with his back to the wall carrying Siler as a shield. He realized that he had no choice.

Cautiously he removed the chair, shifting Siler so he was fully in front now, a dead weight in his arms. He kept the gun pressed against his chin, very visible to all before them. They were all tense as he eased out of the interrogation room, keeping his back against the wall, and his shield covering his body in front, preventing all possible shots. The crowd shifted with him, not backing away, but keeping their distance, unwilling to back down, but not willing to provoke either. A few people tried to get on the side of him but he would bristle and get aggressive, slamming the gun against the man in his arms in threat. The blow brought Siler into a state of semi-consciousness.

With glassy eyes he sluggishly looked about the room. People were watching him closely, though he couldn't understand why. Something was different. He was moving, but he wasn't moving his body. Awareness became more acute and he realized he was being carried, a massive arm over his chest, his hands now behind his back. He felt immensely heavy and his entire body was engulfed in pain. He blinked several times trying to clear his head, then he tried to shake out the cobwebs but that sent the room into back flips and the nausea came like an explosion. He swallowed convulsively, not wanting to puke in front of everyone. He focused on just being able to take a breath, desperately trying to ignore the intense pain it cause.

Everyone kept their focus on Modoc and Siler. The hostile was clearly wound too tight and was just getting tighter by the minutes and he slowly scooted along the wall, keeping them at a good distance away, guarding against the getting a clear shot at him without having to hit his hostage. Earlier they'd considered trying a drop shot but that was easily rejected seeing that the hostage wasn't holding himself up.

They were forced to wait, the problem was no opportunities to put an end to this appeared. Siler was rasping painfully, with a wetness to each rasp, for every much too small breath. He was looking green, swallowing back the bile threatening to rise. His condition deteriorating fast. Vastly disoriented he was toiling to attain what was happening around and to him.

Modoc ducked into an empty hallway, never letting his sight off of the guns pointed at him, keeping track of everything around him. His hostage was conscious but that didn't make much difference. He was still having to drag the man. In hindsight he figured he should have waited until he was safely out of here before beating the guy senseless, then he wouldn't have to be carrying him. He was surprised when Siler started to squirm and struggle against him.

He tightened his grip across his chest, pleased to feel a rib give way with an audible crack. The CSI around him flinched automatically at the sound. Siler whimpered but continued to struggle in disoriented panic. Modoc pressed harder but he continued to struggle. Irritated, he slammed the butt of the gun hard into Siler's shoulder. He groaned as sagged limply against him, the struggles ceasing immediately. He ducked into another empty hallway.

Warrick trudged down the hall, ready for some peace and quiet. He scrubbed his hand vigorously over his face, brushing away at the tiredness. He tried to think of how long this had been going on, but he couldn't think of when it all began, it felt like an eternity. He was exhausted, but he was glad. Greg did seem to be getting better. He had talk to the doctors and they'd said that excluding the septicemia which was still a major problem, Greg had improved and they were considering approving the transfer to get him back to Las Vegas by the end of the week. He'd taken the back way to avoid traffic, parking in the back lot, avoiding annoying crowds and the sympathetic looks from those that knew what was going on.

He'd just rounded the corner into a new hallway when he suddenly saw a man with a hostage coming his way, a gun to the hostage's head. The man wasn't aware of his presence yet, his gaze toward the many guns trained on him from the other end of the hall. He picked up his pace silently as he reached for his gun. The man glanced his way at the same moment. Before he could react, the man dove through the door just to his right. Archie's lab.

The shots were deafening.

**A/N: Did I shoot Archie? Did the shots miss? Was it Siler being eliminated for a fresh hostage? You just have to WAIT! MWUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!**


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: Here it is, did I actually shoot Archie**? Don't kill me, I'm an innocent bystander(blinks innocently)

Chapter 15

Archie leaned in close to the screen, the earphone clamped tight over his ears, his hands pressing them even tighter as if to will the audio to be louder and clearer. He wasn't sure what had caught his attention but it wouldn't leave him alone. He had to decipher what was being said. His instinct told him not to give up, that it was important. The world around him melted away long ago he was so focused on what he was doing. He leaned in a bit more unconsciously, his nose almost touching the screen. He turned a dial adjusting this tone and that, muting the sounds he wasn't looking for. Slowly, it became clearer, he could catch small snatches of what was being said. He bit his lip slightly his every fiber dedicated to deciphering the mumblings on the tape. He stopped it, rewind, play again. And then it clicked. He heard every word clearly. He played it again and again, his eyes wide with shock, his mouth slightly agape, leaning back in his chair again.

He jumped up in a rush, yanking off the earphones. He had to tell Grissom and he to tell him now. Hastily moving toward the lab door he stopped suddenly as a large man came crashing through it backwards. He barely registered the beaten and bloodied man held in his arms exactly like a shield.

"Hey! Wha--" he never finished as the man whipped around, jerking back, the door slamming shut. He never heard the exclamation of surprise from the intruder, or the shouts from the people outside. He didn't hear the thud as the man was dropped to the floor limply, nor did he hear the shots. He only felt the agony burn through him as the bullets ripped their path. He couldn't breath. His legs crumpled beneath him. He was barely aware that he was falling. It felt like his chest was being ripped in two. He felt unbearably heavy. The room was spinning crazily, graying drastically at the edges. He gasped for breath, fresh waves of pain course through him. He didn't realize he was lying face down until a pair of boots appeared before him, inches from his nose. He squinted at them, confused. A toe pressed against his shoulder and rolled him roughly onto his back. He moaned as a violent wave of fresh pain crashed through him.

The man above him scowled and walked away wordlessly. Archie sluggishly gazed about the room, everything blurring together somewhat. The man was sitting against a table, the gun pressed against his forehead, pointing up at the ceiling. His eyes were closed, his face pinched in frustrated thought. His eyes slipped away of their own accord and landed on the other occupant of the room. It was a CSI that had been transferred to help with the investigation. He'd seen him passing in the halls a few times. _I wonder he got so badly beaten? _he laughed weakly at himself. _The same way I got shot in my own lab I guess._ he grimaced, panting for breath. Was it just him or was he having more trouble breathing? Sluggishly he looked down at his hands, surprised at the splash of blood in stark contrast to his pale skin. He shuddered. Something drew his attention back towards the front of the room.

Something was different. He blinked groggily before realizing that the door was open and several people were standing in the doorway. A few feet back, closer to him, was the man with a gun, and the hostage, the gun again pointed at his head. He thought they were shouting, but he couldn't hear what over the roaring in his ears. He squinted, seeing a figure that he recognized, but he couldn't figure out who. It bugged him, why couldn't he think of the name? Warrick. It was Warrick. He seemed to be looking around the room for something. But what? _He might be looking for me, but aren't I in plain sight?_ For the first time Archie registered the table he was behind and realized that although he could see what was happening because he was on the floor, anyone by the door couldn't see him.

The world was fading away as he saw the group of people slowly backing out again. The door closed and the hostage was again dropped to the floor. He could see the hostage was looking at him through glazed eyes. The guy shifted and the glint from the handcuffs attracted Archie's attention. He was mesmerized by the cuffs. He didn't know how long he stared, watching the distorted reflections in the shiny metal, but he found it hypnotizing, his eyes beginning to drift shut. He felt so tired. The cuffs were moving now. He found it difficult to track them as they moved. He felt so tired. He felt cold. Why was it so cold. A miserable cold sweat broke out all over and he began to shiver uncontrollably. He felt like he was sinking, it was so hard to keep his eyes open. So cold.

A voice was talking to him suddenly. Floating somewhere above him. It pulled him back from the edge of oblivion. It took all his strength to peel back his sticky eyelids, having to try again and barely managed to keep them open this time. His vision was tunneled, narrowing to mere pinpoints and the world was blurry at best. A face was hovering over him, bruises littered across it with worry lines to match. He couldn't remember why the guy was beaten, he couldn't form a coherent thought, it was all just images floating before his eyes. He swallowed, his mouth like sandpaper. He blink sluggishly. The world cleared slightly. He barely felt the hand on his neck, checking his pulse. The concerned look didn't go unnoticed. _He doesn't like my pulse. Why doesn't he like my pulse? I like my pulse. I think it's a perfectly good pulse. I'm happy to have it, why can't he be happy with it?_ He would have laughed at the absurdity of the thought but he was suddenly racked with a wet, hacking cough that wouldn't stop.

Pain erupted everywhere. He curled onto his side to escape the pain, desperately gasping for breath between the few and far about pauses between coughs. It felt like hours before the coughing slowed and eventually stopped. He felt like he was going to explode, his lungs screaming for air once it ended. And then he was drifting, the world fading from him. Then that voice was back. Why wouldn't it go away? Let him sleep. He was so tired. So cold. Everything hurt. He just wanted to sleep.

"Hey, stay awake okay?" he whispered. He gritted his teeth momentarily as a wave of his own pain surged up for a moment. He wasn't sure whether it was a blessing to still be coherent during this or not. He was having trouble focusing but he seemed to be at one of his clearer moments. It came in wave where the disorientation and fuzziness would be encompassing and moments like now where he could think clearly. He tried to ignore the fact that his entire body was numb and that it was getting harder to breath as the seconds ticked by. He tried to push the thought that he would probably in shock pretty soon. He could already feel the slow downward spiral, but right now, seeing this guy, the tag said his name was Archie, in this condition, he was determined to last longer, to help him. He needed to get a look at Archie's injuries.

It had painful when he pulled his hands around to the front some time ago, before he crawled over to Archie, but he'd managed, the effort left him panting. Slowly, not wanting to attract the attention of Modoc, whom had surprisingly not snapped when he scooted over, and began to pull at Archie's shirt. He shifted with a groan, clumsily trying to push his hand away.

"Do't" he slurred. The effort to speak seemed to exhaust him coupled with the feeble attempt to push him away, he didn't resist as Siler continued to work at the shirt, untucking it as needed.

"Shhh…it's okay, I'm just checking the injuries. It's okay. I'm not going to do anything to you." he pulled the shirt high enough for him to see, sucking in a sharp breath before silently replacing the shirt. He glanced at the clock. Forty five minutes, that's how long they'd been in here. Something had to happen, and soon.

--oo0oo--

Warrick was not far from the door, pacing, glancing at his watch every other step. Another glance told him it had been an hour. His mind kept drifted to Archie, if he had been in there and either of those shots hit him then he was in big trouble. His logical mind said that Archie had to be in there, why shoot the only hostage? But he still hoped that he hadn't been in there. They had tried charging into the room at a point when the cameras had shown the guy wasn't with the hostage and had his back turned to the door, but the guy was either amazingly good, or had the best luck in heaven and earth, grabbing Siler as a shield before they could get a shot off. Their only guess was that he'd heard them coming, though they weren't sure how that could have happened as quiet as their approach had been. But that had to have been impossible.

What if someone is helping him? No, no one here would do that, no one I know would work with a guy that could do what he did to Greg, would they?

He shook the thought from his head, he couldn't let himself start doubting who to trust now. It wasn't the time. Still he couldn't help but wonder how he was always ready for them when they tried to charge. Or for another matter, how did he get the gun in the first place? Siler, and everyone else for that matter, didn't bring their service weapons into the interrogation rooms, for this exact reason. But they had searched Modoc before, when they brought him in, he was clean. Someone had to have given it to him later, or he was the world's best thief. His thoughts were jarred to the present as his phone shrilled in his pocket. He answered, glancing at his watch, an hour and fifteen minutes now.

"Warrick"

"This is what we'll do, I want out and you don't want anyone dead. So listen carefully."

"I'm listening."

"Good. Now I want everyone to back out of the halls, completely out of sight. Anyone I see I shoot. I'm taking a hostage with me so don't try anything. Once I'm gone, I'll drop off the hostage"

"What about the other hostage? Which one are you taking? What's their conditions?"

"You'll find out when I'm gone. Be out of sight in ten minutes or anyone I see is dead." the call ended. Warrick reiterated everything to the others and they agreed to back off, for a time. They stayed just at the edge of the previous hall, just out of sight. The tension was high as they waited. It was agreed that a group would follow Modoc in case opportunity presented itself, another group, Warrick being point, would go to the lab for whomever had been left behind. He had insisted, it would be two people going in there so the rest could pursue Modoc and his hostage. He stayed pressed against the wall, glancing at his watch again. It's been twelve minutes. The halls were deathly silent. He hoped that wasn't a premonition.

"Clear" came a smooth voice over the walkie-talkie. That was all it took. Warrick bolted down the hall, gun ready, but he didn't need it. He burst into the room giving it a quick glance over. No one. He walked a little further in, being more thorough. Then he saw him, behind the table. Holstering his gun instantly he rushed to Archie's side. He found a frighteningly weak pulse, barely perceptible, but at least it was there. He was laying on his side so Warrick to a quick glance at his back. No exit wounds. He rolled him onto his back, shrugging off the jacket and rolled it. He spread it across both bullet wounds and pressed hard to stop the heavy bleeding. Archie gave a strained groan, trying to squirm away, eyes peeling open heavily.

"S-st-stop" he didn't.

"Shhh…It's okay, I'm just slowing the bleeding." Archie started to drift towards unconsciousness again. "Hey, stay awake, you gotta stay awake." he pressed a little harder, his jacket already soaked through. He could hear Brass behind him calling for the ambulance.

"P-please stop. Oh gosh….hurts….s-s-stop" suddenly he couldn't breathe. He tried to swallow, cough, anything, but all he could do was lay there and choke. Warrick turned him on his side to relieve the choking. He instantly coughs and hacked, a fine mist of blood expelled with each cough, accompanied by a growing rivulet of blood out of the corner of his mouth. He was still struggling to cough and breathe when Warrick remembered that when he got in coughing fits like this(though not under the same circumstance) it was always easier to cough and breathe sitting up than when laying down. Quickly he shifted to sit behind him and raised Archie up to lean against his chest, still applying pressure to the wounds. It seemed to help. The coughing eased though the trail of blood didn't stop. Abruptly Archie went completely limp, the coughs and wheezing completely silent.

"Archie? Archie?!" he felt for a pulse just in time to feel it disappear. He wasn't breathing. Fighting down the panic he started compressions and rescue breathing. He gritted his teeth to bite back the panic.

"Come on Archie! Breathe. Don't do this, breathe!" suddenly he was being pulled away, pushed aside. He fought to stay, he had to help Archie. He couldn't let him die. But then Brass had a hold of his arm.

"Let them work Warrick. They can help." Warrick gave in and watched helplessly on the sidelines as the paramedics pressed the paddles to his chest. His body arched off the ground, crashing down painfully. They shocked him again and again. Warrick was just beginning to lose hope when he heard a paramedic shout that they had a pulse. They loaded him on a gurney a oxygen mask fastened over his mouth and nose as they rushed to the ambulance, Warrick easily in tow. During the ride he thought about Archie.

They'd never really been friend, they respected each other and worked well together, but until all this began that had been it. Now after everything, Warrick couldn't think of him as anything but one of his closest friends. Archie remained unconscious during the entire ride to the hospital, showing no signs of waking.

They quickly whisked him away, Warrick following until he was pushed away at the double doors, told to wait. He walked towards the designated waiting area for the CSI is a daze, the shell shock of recent events finally hitting him. He didn't noticed the gaping stares of the people he passed or that when he got in the elevator, those that had pushed passed him to get on the same one, suddenly got out before the doors could close. He was oblivious to the world. The events just replaying in his mind. He didn't notice that he was passing by Sara's room or Grissom coming out.

"Warrick? Warrick!" he jumped suddenly at hearing his name.

"Wha-what?" he blinked away a bit of the haze, but not all.

"Catherine just called the room ranting about something on tv about a hostage situation at the lab. Who's blood is that? Are you okay?" Warrick blinked again.

"Uh, yeah, yeah, fine. I'm fine." he didn't sound too sure to Grissom.

"Warrick the news is going nuts about there being a hostage situation at the lab."

"Uh, yeah." He looked exhausted and Gil didn't think Warrick realized that he was covered in copious amounts of blood.

"Warrick who's blood is that? None of it's yours is it?"

"N-no it's not mine. I-I gotta go to the waiting room." Warrick turned and rushed to the waiting room with Gil following behind, just wanting some light shed on what was going on. By the time he was in the room Warrick seemed to be almost clear of his dazed state and turned to Gil when he came in.

"Warrick, what happened?" the silence complete.

**A/N: MWUAHAHAHAHA!**


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: Next chapter. Don't foreget to review!**

Chapter 16

He drove for a long time, constantly looking over his shoulder. If anyone was following him, they were invisible. His gaze drifted to the back seat. Siler was in the back, watching closely for an opportunity to try something. He would have tried jumping out of the car, but he was now handcuffed to the door handle. There was no chance of escape without help. James smirked as he saw Siler's head dip down for a moment, his eyes close, then jerk back up suddenly awake again. He'd been doing that for the last fifteen minutes. He was desperately fighting to stay awake and not slip into shock, but he suffered a tough beating. He hated to admit it, but the guy was toughing out his injuries pretty well so far. Not that it would matter soon.

He drove up to a parking lot for a building that had been abandon years ago, but no one bothered to knock it down yet. There was one other car in the parking lot. Empty with the keys in the ignition, just as planned. Never travel in packs, be divided and hard to find. That was the way to do it. He parked right next to the car.

He laughed as he found a plate full of his favorite food, grilled cheese sandwiches, and plenty of his favorite sodas. His men were clearly trying to keep him happy after venturing into the uncharted waters of him being arrested, with incriminating evidence. He savored each bite. This is why he loved being a crime lord. Everyone was afraid of him being unhappy, but they were also willing to help him out of a jam. It had taken a bit of help getting out of that tight spot, he might have managed without it, but he'd been glad to have the help getting out.

Once finished he searched through the glove box finding a gun with plenty of ammunition as well as a decent sized knife and an untraceable phone. He collected the items before heading back to the original car. He yanked the hostage out, with a yelp, his injuries adamantly protesting. James smiled. He loved other people suffering. He popped the trunk and none too gently crammed the man, who was truly too big for the small trunk, inside. He leaned in close to whisper in his ear.

"Later we'll have some fun maybe? Get to experience the same as Sanders first hand maybe. Such fun." he laughed maniacally, enjoying the look of pure terror on the man's face as he slammed the trunk shut. He drove for the better part of an hour, zigzagging and then doubling back towards Las Vegas. Once he was at the drop point he parked the car.

This was one isolated area. No interruptions here. He grinned like a maniac. He popped the trunk open. Siler was either asleep or unconscious, that wouldn't last long. He yelped when he was yanked form his tight spot, head bouncing off the side of the trunk on the way. He fell to the ground with a thud. He mustered the strength to glare.

"What do you want now?" he spat. He struggled to sit up, but he never got a chance to succeed. The man was suddenly on top of him, straddling him. He uncuffed one hand, then the other, shifting momentarily so that Siler's wrists were firmly pinned under his knees. He was squirming desperately to escape, the only thing holding him back were injuries and the unbearable weight of the man on top of him. James laughed, reveling in the man's plight.

"I told you, we're gonna have some fun." the terror was consuming as he watched James pull out a vicious looking knife, splitting his shirt down the center, shoving the tatters aside. He screamed for help, but the place was abandoned. There was no one here except them. James was laughing at him. His terror consumed him. Then the knife came.

It bit deep and dragged down his chest slowly. It came again and again, biting deeper and deeper. There was no mercy. He screamed until he was hoarse and then screamed some more. The pain was unbearable. This man knew where to cut to inflict the most pain. Everything became distant, his screams no longer registered as his own. His struggles ceased. He was drifting. He was oblivious to the knife disappearing and the kicks returning all over. Time had no bearing, only pain.

James stood now, above his victim. He shook with the blind rage that had encompassed him soon after he'd begun the onslaught. Siler shook in pain and fear, barely grasping consciousness. It was these moments that he loved the most. Watching his victims overcome with the pain and fear, him standing over them, reveling in the after glow of the rage, not a shred of sanity remaining, the wild eyed look still ever present. Eventually it would fade and the sanity would return, but not now, not now. He knelt by his victim's head, whom was unaware of his presence. A malicious smile crept across his face again. He peeled back the eyelids revealing pupils dilated to mere pinpoints. The scream sent him shuddering with pleasure like never before.

--oo0oo--

Warrick was sorting through a mess. The lab was a wreck. People were trying to put everything back together, get back to the norm. It shook everyone badly that something like this could happen in their lab. If anything it should have been safe at the lab. Instead Archie was shot twice, fighting for his life at the hospital, and another of their own had been kidnapped, already badly beaten. They all silently prayed that what they'd seen was all Siler would get. Warrick doubted that it would, Greg hadn't been spare, nor had Catherine, Sara or Archie, he had no reason to believe that Siler would escape. But he could at least hope.

Grissom was at the hospital, the usual orders to call with any news. Brass was heading the attempt to beat back the reporters, almost having to resort to literally beating them. Warrick found himself heading the teams that were processing and cleaning up the two new crimes scenes in the lab. He was also on call for Modoc with the drop off point. He hoped he would get the call soon. Siler hadn't been in good condition at all when they'd left, and that was nearly three hours ago. Several things were nagging at the back of his mind.

How was Modoc able to evade them so easily? He'd known every time they tried to surprise him and always had his shield ready. Where did he get the gun? But the most recent thing bugging him was why were all of Archie's computers turned off. He should have been in there working on them and yet they were turned off.

The only thing he could think of was that either he'd been having computer troubles and was restarting, or there was something he didn't trust others to see while he was out, which also meant he'd found something. When his phone rang, the lab stopped, silent. The call was no more than a few seconds before Warrick was rushing to his car, Brass jumping into the passenger seat. The ambulance called to meet them. He drove the whole way there, pedal to the floor, white knuckled. The drop point was only ten minutes, at an abandon road through the desert. No one would have found him.

He barely took time to stop the car before darting out to where he could see a body lying. The smell of blood was overpowering. He knelt down beside Siler. He was covered in blood all over his chest, his jeans soaked and slashed with more blood. Nothing had been spared, the bruises too numerous to count. His wrists both looked to have been crushed and were swollen to distortion. Tears stained his face barely starting to dry. Massive rivers of blood was flowing down the sides of his face, over his ears. With horror Warrick realized the source was the corners of his eyes.

Fearful he peeled back a single eyelid gingerly. Within was a mess of blood an pulp. The eyes had been shredded to nothing. He gulped back the bile rising up. Siler began moaning, semi-conscious at best, head rolling side to side weakly. In his struggles his arm turned slightly and Warrick could see that he held something in his hand. He peeled back the deadened fingers, doing his best to be gentle.

"_oh gosh_" he whispered. Siler was forced to hold two chunks of his eyes, the pupils frozen at pinpoints the surrounding iris and white. Too weak to resist. They were cold and empty now, like fish eyes. A CSI took photos speedily taking less then a minute, Warrick moving out of the way until they were finished. Immediately after he knocked the remnants of his eyes out of his hand. The man was trembling uncontrollably, skin cold to the touch so he shrugged off his jacket and laid it across him. His skin was taking on this near transparent, bluish tinge. The shivers stopped and he gasped for breath coughing with each exhale, blood misting the air.

The paramedics Warrick hadn't heard arrive pushed him out of the way and worked furiously on Siler. He stood in a daze and knew he couldn't work the scene so he numbly elected to ride in the ambulance. The ride was stony silent for him. The medics were shouting all kinds of things to each other but he didn't hear them. He could only see the image of the eyes Siler had held, the empty, bloody sockets. How could one survive suffering through that? He didn't know for sure but he had a feeling that Siler had been conscious during the brutal mutilation. He knew he could never live through something like that. Just seeing someone who had so far was a struggle in itself. The rest was a haze until he found himself standing in the living room of his house. He couldn't remember how he'd gotten there, just that he was here. He showered numbly, barely aware. His meal was forgotten before he even finished it. He soon fell into bed, beyond exhausted, sleeping like the dead.

--oo0oo--

Nick found him smiling and it was so much easier to do now. In an hour they would be riding in a helicopter on their way to Las Vegas at last. They had decided to keep him on the respirator for the ride and then take it out once he was settled into his new room. The same went for the sedatives. They didn't want him to wake up on the trip. He had greatly improved that week. The fever was now down to a manageable level, the infection was greatly weakened, and the far too numerous cuts were starting to close up and scab over. He was far from healed, but a big hurtle had been leapt. When he woke up, he would have Nick there with him to help him get through the mental and emotional scars that had to be there.

He packed up what stuff had been brought to him quickly, throwing out any garbage. The doctors would be here any moment to load Greg onto the chopper. He was so happy that they were letting him come along for the ride with Greg. He had been worried they would make him drive while they flew. The ride was quiet, no one actually saying anything, just watching Greg.

He shivered unconscious for the entire ride. Nick wished he could make the miserable shivers stop, but they were from a low grade fever he sill had. Those were the worst, those low grade fevers. Not hot enough to be dangerous to a healthy person, but they were the most miserable. It wasn't a long ride and he soon found that they were on the landing pad unloading Greg. It didn't take long to get him settled into his new room and remove the tube.

When Grissom came in a bit later Nick's first thought was that he was starting to look as bad as Greg. He looked as if he hadn't slept for weeks, which very well may be the truth, and he had worry lines that were much deeper than normal. He just sat down in a second chair heavily with an exaggerated sigh. Nick looked at him for a moment, slightly stunned.

"How did things go while I was gone?" he asked hesitantly.

"We lost Modoc."

"Y-you what?"

"He pulled a gun in the interrogation room, hostage too."

"How did he get a gun?"

"We don't know."

"Did you get him back? Will he come after Greg?"

"No he got away, and he might. Greg is another witness now." Nick gulped. There was no way he was leaving now, he just couldn't. He'd considered a quick stop at home for a shower and clothes, but not now. If he was truly desperate, he would just use the one in Greg's room. He simply couldn't and wouldn't leave Greg now, note when the man responsible was on the loose again.

"Did anyone get hurt, you said something about a hostage?" Grissom gulped. Nick felt the chunk of ice crash into his stomach. Someone had been hurt. Who? And was it only one person? Or more?

"Yeah, the uh, hostage, Siler, he got beaten badly during the situation, then at the drop off point he was beaten again and cut up badly, the guy gouged out his eyes." Nick had to gulp convulsively to keep the bile rising down.

"Was…was he the only one hurt?" please say yes, please say yes.

"No" blast, no, no, no…he was supposed to say yes. Why didn't he do as he was told?

"Who else got hurt?" Gil gulped again.

"Archie." Nick blanched. Not Archie, he'd been the rock to lean upon for him lately. Not Archie, someone else.

"What…what happened to him?" he wasn't sure he wanted to know. And yet…he did.

"Modoc ended up holing in his office, didn't realize Archie was in there until it was too late. He took two rounds to the chest. One did significant damage to his diaphragm, the other punctured a lung and took a chunk out of an artery."

"Is, is he going to be okay?" please say yes, please say yes, please say yes.

"The doctors won't say either way. They were able to repair most of the damage to his diaphragm and lung, but he nearly bled out before he got to the hospital, which caused hypothermia. He's stable for the moment. Warrick is with him now." Nick nodded stunned. When had all this happened. It should have been safe. It was the lab for goodness sake. It should have been safe.

Where had all of this gone wrong. It was wrong enough when Greg had been taken. The beatings and the torture had been beyond wrong, it was just cruel and genuine evil, and now this had happened. It baffled them all how everything could have gone so wrong so fast and there had been nothing they could do to stop it. They were only able to hold on as a whirlwind of chaos, injustice, and pure evil swept through taking the lives of friends and putting even more at risk. All Nick could think was a simple fact.

It should have been safe.


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: Okay, this is a bit shorter, but, it's all about GREG! (listens to resounding squeels of glee) Yes...yes, I know you love me, mostly Greg, but please tell me again with your neat little reviews! Come back at Noon today for the next chapter!**

Chapter 17

He was in a thick soup, just floating. The world of soup must have had someone stirring it because he felt like he was floating lazily in a gentle whirlpool. It was strange, he felt like he was everywhere and not in his body. He was detached. He just let himself drift. It was so quiet, so calm. He just wanted to drift forever. He didn't feel happy, or sad, or anything, there was just, nothing. So relaxing. He faintly realized that he didn't want to return to reality. There was something terrifying in reality that he never wanted to return. But he truly couldn't discern what. He couldn't find the energy to care so he just let himself float.

Slowly, against his wishes, the world began to return to him. The first thing to come was a strange sensation. He felt heavy, too heavy, and a cold permeated through his body miserably. It stayed there for the longest time, marring his relaxed drifting. Next he realized that he was shivering. A dull ache rose up throughout his body. All of it ached. He tried to squirm away from the ache but he was so tired he couldn't move. He wanted to move, he wanted to get away. From what? Why? He didn't know why, but he had to run, he had to get away, he just knew it.

He could hear something. A hiss. Something nearby was hissing. What? It was so close. What was it? The urge to get away nearly consumed him. He didn't understand, why did he have to get away so badly? The dull ache slipped away into raw pain. He couldn't breathe. It hurt. So bad. The hiss turned into a loud roar in his ears. The groan didn't register as his own.

--oo0oo--

Nick had been sitting reading. Every now and then he would glance up to see how Greg was doing. He felt an overwhelming eagerness for the sedatives to wear off and for Greg to wake up. He knew it wouldn't be that way but he hoped that Greg might wake up his perky, unusual, unique self. It would be a miracle if he did. He turned the page. He was trying to escape the past events just like everyone else. He still couldn't believe what had happened to Siler and Archie. They were optimistic about Archie now, but they wouldn't commit entirely. Siler was a different matter. He was suffering from septicemia and they couldn't stop the bleeding so they just kept pumping blood into him to keep him alive. No matter how many blood thickeners they gave him, the bleeding wouldn't stop.

He'd just glanced up to check again when he was surprised to an eye twitch under it's eyelid. He dropped the book hastily, leaning over Greg to get a closer look. There it was again. He smiled. He was finally waking up. The heart monitor picked up its pace, but not drastically. He was breathing a little harder. His eyes were darting about now without opening. He groaned.

"C'mon Greg, wake up. You can do it." he reassured. Greg groaned again. He started to shiver a little bit harder. Nick drew the blankets a little bit higher on him hoping to alleviate the shivers. They continued. He groaned again, starting to squirm weakly. He groaned more loudly, his head beginning to toss side to side.

"Wake up Greg. Just wake up. C'mon you can do it." his eyes opened half way for a moment then slid closed again after a short delay. A minute later he opened them again and they stayed open. His eyes were glazed and confused. He looked around for a moment disoriented.

"Greg?" the effort it took was visible as he slowly dragged his eyes towards Nick. He looked beyond confused, like he wasn't seeing things right. Frankly, he looked extremely shell-shocked. Suddenly the last of the meds wore off and the pain hit him like a truck. He desperately try to curl, his teeth clenched tightly, panting heavily as the pain coursed over him. He could hear a distant voice talking to him urgently. But he couldn't place it, it was too far away. Why was it so far? It sounded so familiar, so friendly. He tried to speak, breathe anything, but the pain overwhelmed him. Hot tears burned at the corner of his eyes.

That voice was back, closer now. He couldn't hear the words, but the voice it was so familiar. Soothing. Nick, it was Nick. That's was whose voice he was hearing. Nick was here, he'd come. Nick found him. Nick saved him. From what? He wished he could remember. Then he felt a hand in his own. He held to it with all his strength, fueled by the pain. It was his lifeline and he would never let go. Soon he heard more people in the room, strangers, and he held on tighter. Then the pain softened, slowly easing away, back to the dull ache. He felt his strength leaving him and the heaviness return but not the blackness. He was so tired, but he stayed awake. His grip on his only lifeline, his thread to sanity, never faltered.

Nick was still waiting for his heart rate to go down. It had shot up the moment Greg had been blindsided by the pain. The meds had clearly worn off in a single second. His eyes had screwed shut, the burning tears still escaped, the heavy panting that paused into grunts and sped along again quicker than before. He talked to him but Greg seemed only faintly aware of his voice and couldn't seem to locate where he was. Then Nick slipped his hand into Greg's, giving him some kind of connection. It worked. Greg gripped it with all his strength, a small flicker of recognition flashing in his eyes. The doctors appeared suddenly and injected a pain reliever into his iv.

He visibly relaxed, the lines of pain easing away, the glazed, lethargic look returning. His grip on Nick's hand however, never eased or relaxed, remaining just as strong as before. Nick found himself doubting whether he'd been given enough pain killers.

"N-Nick?" Greg slurred groggily, the confusion evident on his face.

"Right here G." he still looked confused.

"F-found?" his voice barely a whisper behind the oxygen mask.

"Yup, I found you. I told you I would." his eyelids drooped.

"Where?" he looked so tired.

"The hospital, you're in Las Vegas again." he saw him try to pull a smile, but he was too tired to finish the effort.

"Safe?" Nick's smile faltered.

"That's why I'm here, to keep you safe." he thanked the existence of drugs. Greg was too out of it to realize that Nick hadn't actually said he was safe again. His eyes slipped closed as he drifted to sleep.

" 'k" he whispered. The next instant he was deep asleep again. Nick sat and watched over Greg as he slept peacefully, more alert then ever to any sign of him waking. He'd tried to remove his hand from Greg's once or twice but every time he tried, the grip would intensify and Greg would moan.

"please don't leave me." it was always a barely audible whisper and never had he truly been awake, but it was always enough to melt Nick's heart and stay the way they were. The hours ticked by and after some time he worked a way to continue his book one handed. At times Greg would wake up just long enough to make sure that Nick was still there. It broke his heart that Greg didn't feel safe to the point he would wake himself up to make sure that Nick was still there. As the hours passed into evening he stopped waking up to check, deeper asleep, and Nick without realizing slumped onto the bed asleep.

Warrick was coming to check on all of the hospital patients currently. He'd helped Grissom get Catherine home since she'd been released earlier that day. Archie was showing remarkable progress that surprised the doctors and they were very optimistic. Siler had taken a turn for the worse. The doctors weren't expecting him to live more than a day, two by miracle. He felt anger begin to rise up again. This was ridiculous, none of this should have happened. And it was still happening, there was so much more that could happen. He shook his head again and left Sara's room quietly. She was still in a drug induced coma, but that would be lifted in two or three days which would be followed by a week, maybe longer of hospital stay before she could go home.

He stopped in the doorway of Greg's room. He couldn't help smiling at the sight. Greg and Nick were asleep, Nick halfway slumped onto Greg's bed, an open book wedged partially under his face a pool of drool collecting in the center of a page. His right hand snaked under his head and held Greg's left hand loosely, though Greg had a tight grip on it even in sleep. He had a feeling Nick would be feeling that position in the morning, but he also knew that he wouldn't care and would probably be doing it again the next night. Nick shifted and Warrick saw Greg greatly tighten his grip on Nick's hand both still asleep. With an ornery smile he made a mental note that later, much later, when the time was right he would have to give them a hard time about the hand holding. The smile grew.

Abruptly a nurse appeared at his side as scheduled for Greg's check up and no doubt a hefty dose of antibiotics and pain relievers. He had been slightly startled, too wrapped up and watching Nick and Greg and had to take a moment to get his breathing normal again. Suddenly he noticed the glare she wore.

"That won't do, he has to leave, it's long past visiting hours." Warrick acted instantly. He grabbed her arm in a non threatening way and pulled her back out of the room, positioning himself between her and the door. The glare was nothing compared to what he shot back at her.

"Now wait, you are not making him leave. He's had the worst couple weeks of his life and he had to go through it alone, and to top it off, the person responsible is still on the loose."

"He's not going to get any decent rest if he has someone disturbing his sleep, the guy has to go." the nurse stood her ground unforgiving, but Warrick knew he would win this.

"I don't care what you think. You see how they look now, that's a good thing. If you, by some impossible miracle that I know it won't happen, do manage to get Nick to leave, Greg will be in worse condition than now. Besides, if you weren't listening before, the man responsible is still on the loose, and Greg is an important witness. He has to have protection."

"They are clearly not strangers, isn't he supposed to be someone not emotionally attached so he can do his job properly." Warrick saw it, she was grasping at straws, anything to get Nick out of there. Warrick wasn't having any of it.

"His apparent ATTACHMENT, will make sure he does his job all the better. Now you are going to go in there, and do your job, WITHOUT disturbing them, or you will have to answer to me and a whole bunch of other powerful people and we will make sure you never work here again. IS. THAT. UNDERSTOOD." she was cowering from him by the end, and he didn't care.

"Y-yes sir."

"Good." she slunk in, him watching her every move, did her job and slunk back out of the room looking like a kicked dog. He smiled again when she was gone. Nick and Greg were sleeping just as soundly as they had been before. He was glad the dispute he'd had with the nurse didn't wake them. They needed all the rest they could get. He would take Nick's place to let him get some real rest, but the truth of the matter was that Nick was probably the most rested of all of them.

He shook his head again. This was insane. The only ones not hospitalized were him Nick, and Grissom. Catherine didn't count because she'd been hospitalized and was released already. He and Grissom were tag teaming at the lab. One would go home shower, eat, and get an hour or two of sleep before coming back. Nick had taken over most of the hospital stuff, well Greg's stuff anyways, but it was a big help. As he walked to his car, his turn for a few hours sleep, he couldn't shake the feeling that this wasn't over, and that James Modoc had something devious, and horrible planned. This was not over.

**A/N: Everyone celebrate, another chapter AND I never have to take STAR testing again! Riotous roar!!!!!!!!!!!**


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: I love you guys...so faithful! I loved all the neat reviews. I'm amazed, I was expecting a response for Archie, but not threats of mob retaliation. I guess I struck a nerve with Archie. I promise, there will be more of him! But for now, we get some good ole Greg! Let me know what you think!**

Chapter 18

Nick slipped his hand back into Greg's silently. He hadn't wanted to leave Greg, but he hadn't left for hours and he'd really had to use the restroom. He'd woken with the urge, dismayed when he found the gigantic pool of drool on his book, even more so when he discovered that it had soaked through several pages. He quickly put it aside and began to extricate himself from Greg's hand. It shouldn't have been as hard as it was for as weak as Greg was, but he wasn't giving up his lifeline easily, even if it was only for a minute. Greg had moaned in protest, begging him not to leave, not fully awake. He'd brushed the strands of hair plastered to his forehead away.

"Shhh…it's okay, I'm just using the restroom. I'm not leaving the room. It's okay. Go back to sleep." he'd groaned again, but the exhaustion won out again. As promised Nick had been fast. When he'd returned hardly two minutes later Greg had managed to wake himself up again and was looking for him fearfully. He calmed the moment he saw Nick again.

This time he didn't go straight to sleep. It was too dark, someone might be hiding in the dark, waiting for him. He found himself afraid of what might be lurking in the shadows. Each time he'd woken up, even though only for a minute most of the time, more of the memories had slotted back into place.

"Nick" his voice was hoarse and it hurt to talk. He was thirsty.

"Yeah Greg, what do you need?"

"Too dark, dark." Nick immediately turned on a light, giving him a heads up first. He had to blink a few times but his eyes adjusted. He could see every corner of the room clearly now. It was just him and Nick. Safe. He tried to swallow but his mouth felt so dry, like sand paper. Nick noticed.

"Do you want some ice chips?" he tried to verbally answer, but it took too much effort so he nodded weakly. In moments a cup of ice chips had been produced. Before Nick could get to it he grabbed the spoon, he wanted to do something himself. He felt weak, emotionally, like he wasn't good enough for anything, if he could feed himself ice chips he thought it might help.

Prove to them that he could be strong too. His hand shook so badly that he couldn't keep the chips on the spoon long enough to get past the rim of the cup. Before he could try again he lost his grip on the spoon, dropping it back into the cup and his hand dropping back to the bed. He laid his head back, blinking away the threatening tears of frustration.

"Sorry, guess I'm too weak to do even that" he whispered. He wouldn't meet Nick's gaze.

"Hey, I don't want to hear that. You are not weak. You've been through a lot. You survived it all, that alone took strength."

"I'm weak, you just pity me. Everyone pities me."

"Greg, you were kidnapped, tortured. The doctors said that you'd been electrocuted, burned beaten and cut up really bad. And you still managed to fight back, punch out a window, jump, from the second story no less, and then with a broken leg that had already been shot, including all the other injuries from the beatings, walk nearly three blocks to a phone booth and call for help. That took strength." he wasn't sure whether Greg believed him.

"Didn't realize."

"Realize what?"

"That I was on the second story. It was an accident. Didn't know it was a two story house." Nick smiled at him encouragingly.

"See, life threw you a curve ball you didn't expect and you still toughed it out." he looked unconvinced. He gulped happier than ever for the ice chips Nick was feeding him between comments.

"I was too weak."

"To do what, break through the handcuffs, break down the door and barrel your way through about twenty people? Greg, none of us could have done that. You made two attempts that we know of, both of them after you'd been badly beaten, the second one wasn't long after having been tortured. You weren't weak." Greg looked at him drowsily but the hope now visible in his eyes.

"Really?"

"I wouldn't lie to you Greg, ever. Now get some sleep, you can try the spoon again in the morning." He leaned back to lay down, eyes drifting closed.

" 'k, don't leave."

"I won't go further than the bathroom." Greg nodded and was again asleep. He watched him sleep for a long while. He felt this desperate need to guard and protect Greg. He had this feeling of failure in that area. He couldn't help it that he felt like he'd failed Greg. He should have checked on him sooner when no one had heard from him. Let him stay at his place for a while instead, especially with him having been responsible for such a big bust. He should have done something. But this was how he could make it up to Greg, he wouldn't leave him alone unprotected, he would guard Greg with his life.

He kept his eyes open until they crossed and were burning to the point of watering. He tried to stay awake longer. Can't protect him when asleep, but his tiredness just wouldn't leave him along and again he found himself slumping over, using his arm as a pillow, asleep, hand in hand with Greg. The hours went by quickly, both sleeping solidly. They were so deeply asleep that not once did they stir for hours.

It was somewhere around three in the morning when Nick woke, at first not sure what had woken him in the first place. It took a moment to shake off the cobwebs, taking in his surroundings, remembering the past events in less then a second. He looked around for intruders and found none. That was a relief. In the next second he realized what had woken him. Greg was shaking, tossing his head back and forth, muttering and moaning in the throes of a nightmare. He was up in an instant.

"Greg, wake up, it's just a dream." no response. He continued to mutter and moan.

"No…no…no…stop…please…stop….nononononono…stop." he put a hand on Greg's forehead, brushing away all the hair repeatedly.

"Wake up Greg, it's just a dream, you have to wake up. It's just a dream. Just a dream." his presence and urgings didn't even put a dent in the nightmare. He was gently shaking Greg now while wiping away the tears streaming down his face.

"nonononononono…stop please….hurts…stop…stop…nonononononono…don't…please…stop…"

"Wake up man, you're dreaming man, you have to wake up. Just wake up." he moaned, shrinking away in a phantom pain of the dream. Suddenly his eyes shot open, he bolted upright, eyes darting all about the room, hyperventilating.

"NOOOOOOO…" he was shaking, still in the grips of the nightmare. The downside to the drugs. Nick took his chin and forced him to look directly at him. Nick could tell that he wasn't really seeing him. He was still looking about the room frantically.

"Greg, c'mon man, it's over, it was just a dream." he drew Greg into a gentle hug, one hand on the back of his head, the other on his lower back being cautious of his injuries. He could feel the hot tears soaking into the crook of his neck. Greg gripped the front of his shirt desperately, trembling.

"Noooo…" he moaned quietly into Nick's shoulder.

"It's okay…it's okay. You're alright."

"Nonono…they're here…they're still here…"

"No Greg, they aren't here, they're gone, they're gone."

"Nooo…they came back…they came back…"

"No Greg I've been the only one here. They didn't come back. It was just a dream." he rocked Greg back and forth gently trying to calm him, help him shake loose from the dream. He wasn't hyperventilating any longer, but he was sobbing uncontrollably.

"It hurt so bad…they came back…it hurts so bad…couldn't make them stop…they wouldn't stop…it hurt so bad…."

"Shhhh….it's okay, I'll keep you safe…I'm not going to let them hurt you…shhhh…I'll protect you…I'll protect you." Greg stopped muttering and just sobbed into Nick's shoulder for a long time, unable to hold anything back. He hadn't felt safe.

Every time he closed his eyes they were there. It was so real. He was back in the basement or in those chains attached to the wall, the stun gun or knife biting into him. The moment where the revolver shot a live round leaving the permanent groove in his skull replaying in his mind over and over again. But Nick was here, he was holding him in his arms, telling him it would be okay.

Nick said he would protect him and Greg, too tired and in too much pain, physical and emotional, couldn't refute what he said and started to believe. Eventually he slowed to hiccupping gasps and that eased back into just leaning against Nick, too exhausted to cry, to afraid to let go. Nick might disappear. If he let go he might wake up and find that his rescue had all been a dream. If it was, he never wanted to wake up. So he continued to hold on desperately, too afraid to let go.

Nick waited until he was breathing normally again, and a long period had past. Greg wouldn't let go of his shirt and was still trembling but not nearly as bad as before. It broke his heart seeing Greg like this. It never should have happened. He didn't deserve any of this. He couldn't help wondering if Greg had made it harder for himself by being unwilling to expose the witness. He had a feeling he had to a certain extent, but he knew that he still would have been badly beaten as leverage against everyone else.

That took strength. Being tortured, in ways they still didn't know entirely, and still be able to keep his silence. Greg had so much more strength than met the eye. When he'd been taken, James probably thought he was getting the baby of the group that depended upon everyone else and needed coddling. They had never been so wrong. Yes he could be considered the baby of the group being the youngest, and least experienced, still the lab rat. They all saw him as someone they wanted to protect whether he be like a son or little brother to them, they all wanted to protect him. But he certainly wasn't dependent on them for anything but friendship, and was far from needing coddling. He was the strongest person Nick knew, and he wanted to protect him in his hour of need.

For the first time he noticed a nurse standing in the doorway looking at them, slightly impatient. He nodded silently to her. Of course she would wanted to check Greg over, he had been hyperventilating, heart rate sky rocketing. He wondered how long she'd been there.

"Greg, can you lay back now, the nurse wants to make sure you are okay." Greg shook his head silently in his shoulder. He could feel Greg tighten his grip on his shirt.

"No, you'll disappear."

"No I won't. I'm going to stay in the room. I'll be in the chair, right next to the bed the whole time. I promise." he seemed to think about it for a moment, then slowly he let go and nervously laid back onto the bed. He glanced between the nurse and Nick slightly agitated, not wanting to trust the nurse. She went about her business quickly and was gone soon, satisfied. He was glad that she was gone. He'd noticed that when Greg was awake when the nurses or doctors checked his progress he would be very agitated. He hoped Greg would be able to overcome the sudden new fear of strangers. Not all people were bad.

His eyes were beginning to droop but he was fighting valiantly to stay awake. What worried Nick was that he was actually winning against the exhaustion. He needed to sleep, he needed rest. He was improving, but he had a lot of injuries to over come and it was only the first night. He could tell they had a long way to go.

"Greg, you should let yourself sleep, you need the rest." Greg looked away meekly.

"I can't."

"Why not?" he didn't answer for a moment. "C'mon Greg, you can tell me anything." He chewed on his lip a moment more.

"I keep seeing them. Every time I close my eyes they're there. I'm back in that room."

"But you aren't, we found you, you aren't in the room anymore Greg, you have to remember that."

"I'm just…I'm afraid that I'll wake up and you guys had all been a dream. That you'll disappear."

"Greg, I promise, this isn't a dream, and I promise I won't disappear and neither will Grissom, Warrick, Sara or Catherine. We're here to stay."

"Promise?"

"Promise. Now go to sleep. I don't know about you, but I'd like to be able to go home, and that won't happen until you sleep." There it was, a small smile.

"Thanks Nick, for everything. It means a lot to me."

"I know Greg, you mean a lot to me too." Greg had never felt so happy to have Nick nearby, he was finally home.


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: Here's Chapter 19! Take a deep breath, this one has action! It is a Nick/Greg/Warrick/Archie, they all play a part this chapter. Hehe, I request that no one kill me for doing this, but it must be done, this story is far from over! Evil laughter. Anyways, I also have to reduce back to one chapter a day for a while, I didn't make as much progress as usual, but if it starts to pick up, I'll put you back to two a day! Oh and I've been forgetting to put this in, I DON'T OWN THEM! So there it is DON'T SUE!**

Chapter 19

Morning came far too soon, even if it counted as sleeping in, being nine in the morning. Greg had had several nightmares after that first intense dream, but none of them had been enough to wake him and Nick had been able to sooth him back into deeper dreamless sleep. He still couldn't bring himself to let go of Nick longer than it took for him to use the restroom, but neither one was willing to push for a change yet. It was barely the second day of him being awake and Nick was willing to do anything to help Greg through this.

He was glad that Greg hadn't asked about his captors yet, he didn't like the answer he would have to give him if he did. They couldn't find James or any of his other crew, for they had a suspicion that he had contacted other operatives of his that had been underground. They probably hadn't had anything to do with Greg, but they still had to find them. Greg wasn't safe until Modoc and the rest of his crew were locked away, preferably dead. He kept that last thought to himself.

Greg was dozing lightly waiting for the morning check up with the doctors, the fresh doses of pain meds, and antibiotics. He was in more considerable pain this morning. He suspected that it was from his episode the night before after the dream when he had shot up out of the bed. He had been to engulfed by the grip of the dream to notice the pain that it had caused, but he certainly felt it this morning. His thoughts were muddled at best right now. He still had trouble keeping a coherent and rational train of thought. His mind was constantly jumping around from one thought to something completely random and different from the original thought.

What was most frustrated was that he could hardly stay awake. He could barely finish statements it felt like before he was drifting back asleep. He didn't understand how he could be sleeping so much and still feel so exhausted. Last night had been the longest stretch of time he'd been awake, and he spent most of it sobbing. His cheeks flushed red at the thought of having cried like that, especially in front of Nick. He couldn't believe he'd done that. How stupid could he get? Now they'll think he's a baby needing coddling for crying like that. He felt so ashamed. Before he could form another thought he was asleep again.

Nick watched as Greg fell asleep again. He'd been sitting there, most likely thinking, his eyes slipping shut then snapping open again stubbornly. He couldn't help but wondering why just a moment ago he'd blushed. He could see the pain lines were a little more pronounced than the day before and had a feeling the late night, or early morning depending on ones view, had caused more physical pain for the morning. He understood why Greg was afraid to sleep. He couldn't imagine what it was like to see and be in the room again every time he closed his eyes. It would be terrifying. Warrick came by not long after Greg fell asleep.

"Hey Nick, how is he?" he kept his voice low so as to not wake Greg, who was thankfully sleeping peacefully.

"Pretty good considering. He had a bit of a rough night. Intense nightmare that he couldn't shake when he woke up, no thanks to all the drugs they've got him on. He completely broke down."

"Man they really messed him up didn't they."

"Yeah, they really got to him."

"It shouldn't have happened to him.

"It shouldn't happen to anyone."

"No arguments there." Warrick sat down next to Nick in a chair. "So you two enjoying the hand holding? Should I expect wedding bells soon?" Nick scoffed and slapped him hard on the back of the head.

"You're just vile. Couldn't hold it in could you?" Warrick smirked guiltily.

"Sorry, opportunity presented itself. It just popped out." Nick rolled his eyes.

"Right."

"So seriously, what's it all about? He's not the hugging, hand holding type that I saw?"

"He's afraid if he let's go I'll disappear and he'll wake up to find that he hallucinated his rescue."

"Man, everything is so messed up. Why did it have to happen to him." Warrick felt himself getting mad. It was a good thing Modoc had escaped, he didn't know if he'd be able to stop himself from killing him right now.

Is there any sign of James?"

"No, he's disappeared."

"He must have had connections in Vegas too, so much for shipping him out of his territory."

"At least we haven't seen anything to indicate that he'll come after Greg again. We hope." they jumped when Greg groaned suddenly muttering from a dream. Nick was about to wake him up when his eyes snapped open with a short gasp and he launched partly upright, grimaced and quickly laid back down. It took him a few minutes of glancing about groggily to regain his bearings. He pushed himself weakly to sit up a little more, wincing as his tender back and ribs protested the movement.

"Hey Warrick" he whispered gruffly. It irritated him that he couldn't talk louder. He sounded so weak to himself.

"Hey Greg, how you feelin' this morning?" he swallowed painfully. His throat hurt a little.

"A little better." he blinked sluggishly. He felt so tired today. He just wanted to go home, to his apartment. The memories of the man in his apartment when he was kidnapped flashed through his mind. He shuddered involuntarily. Perhaps not his apartment, not yet.

"You okay Greg?" Warrick had seen him shudder.

"Hmm…yeah, just…tired." well, it wasn't exactly a lie, he really was tired.

"You sure, it's okay to tell us if you're not." Nick pushed. Greg bit his lip.

"I'm fine, it's just…it's just been a hard couple of weeks." he didn't want to tell them he was afraid of every person he didn't know that came to check on him. Or that he to close his eyes, nor that he was afraid of the day he had to go back to his apartment. He didn't want to show them how weak he felt. Nick had told him that it wasn't weakness, but he just didn't want them to pity him.

"Hey, your breakfast is here." Nick piped in as a nurse came into the room. Greg didn't even have a chance to recognize what was on the plate before he was overcome with the smell of lemons. He couldn't tell whether it was him or if it really was that strong, all he knew was he suddenly flashed back to the conference. His back burned unbearably with the memory and the next thing he knew, he was doubled over a can under his chin, vomiting like there was no tomorrow. He could faintly hear Warrick, shouting about something, but he couldn't discern any of the words and all his focus was required on breathing between heaves.

Nick was the only thing keeping Greg from doing a nose dive off the hospital bed as he heaved violently into the can. They had been outraged when the nurse entered the room with a food that smelled of overpowering lemon. His logical mind tried to tell him that the nurse hadn't known to avoid anything citrus, but he was happily shutting up that voice in the darkest corner of his mind. He didn't care. He was mad. He would have joined Warrick in his tirade but he'd had to catch Greg when he lurched unexpectedly sideways. He heaved for fifteen minutes and dry heaved for another ten before laying back trembling, exhausted.

His eyes were glazed again, he was panting heavily for breath and he looked as if he was having trouble staying conscious after the violent heaving. He swallowed convulsively and every now and then would shake his head swiftly as if to throw off the memory. It made Nicks blood boil anew.

"Do you want some ice chips?" he nodded weakly, not even attempting the spoon. He just accepted the cool sweet ice gratefully too tired and miserable to even care that he couldn't handle lifting a spoon. He just felt like dying. A tempting thought. But it would take too much energy, so he resigned to just feeling miserable and weak.

"I'm sorry." he whispered weakly.

"For what? You have nothing to be sorry about."

"I'm pathetic, I see or smell something even remotely citrus, and I'm back there, and I completely loose it."

"You aren't pathetic Greg, you just had a flashback because an idiot brought in something that smelled overpoweringly like lemons. Something that they used to attack you with. That isn't weakness, and you aren't pathetic."

"Then why can't I just get over this? Why is it so easy for it to overwhelm me?"

"Because it was a horrible thing done to you and it's not going to be all better after two days. It's going to take time but you can get through this Greg, it's just taking more time than you'd like."

"I just want to forget, like it never happened." he looked down at his hand not in a cast.

"We all want to forget what happened, but we can't, we just have to move past."

"I don't think I can Nick, the dreams haunt me every waking and dreaming moment. I'm so tired of suddenly not being able keep from suddenly sobbing." He looked away ashamed at the admission. It made him feel weak for crying so much. He didn't like crying, but he couldn't stop himself. He gulped, afraid of how Nick would react, he didn't know why.

"You aren't the only that's been crying Greg. Several times, I felt so frustrated and useless, not being able to find you, seeing those tapes and phone calls, I couldn't help it either. There's nothing wrong with crying." Nick had a sheepish smile to match Greg's. they both blushed slightly.

"Well, I won't tell if you don't tell." a single nod sealed the pact. Warrick returned from his tirade muttering to himself. He suddenly looked at himself consciously.

"I guess you've got good aim Greg. I'll be back after I'm clean again." Greg smiled.

"Alright Warrick, you're excused."

"Do you want me to bring back some real food since these people don't know the meaning of the word real?"

"Sure, I might be able to hold something down by then. Thanks."

"No problem Greg, just get better." Warrick left leaving the room in silence for a moment. Nick grabbed the now full can, and without being out of sight of Greg, set it outside the door. When he returned Greg was asleep again. He dozed restfully for a solid have hour before waking up, without a nightmare. He was reading his book at the time. Greg had been content to just watch him read. It gave him an odd sense of normalcy, though he hoped it didn't become normal for Nick to be reading a book in the hospital.

"Hey Nick? Can I have more ice chips?" He looked up smiling.

"You sure know how to interrupt an exciting part of the book." he stood up to get the pitcher of ice chips and frown.

"What?"

"We're out. I'll have to go get some…I'll just call a nurse for some."

"No it's okay, you can go." Nick looked at him shocked.

"Are you sure? You don't have to rush this. You don't have to prove anything."

"I know Nick, but if I don't start making steps, no matter how small, I know that I never will. Really, it's okay, you'll be five minutes down the hall. I'll be okay." he took the pitcher and headed towards the door, pausing for a moment.

"You're sure you want to do this?" he wouldn't leave until he knew that Greg was absolutely certain.

"Yes, I want to do this, go." Greg didn't let his voice even waver. He was resolute.

"Alright, if you're sure."

"I'm sure" he watched Nick leave quickly. The fear hit instantly. He felt himself begin to shake and begin to hyperventilate. He took a long slow breath. He was NOT going to panic. Nick was just down the hall. It took all his focus to breathe normally. He bit down on his lip, not hard enough to break through the skin, but enough to keep him grounded into reality. The seconds dragged on like minutes. Time stretched on agonizingly. He would not panic. Nick was just down the hall, back any minute. Nothing would happen, he was rescued. He continued the mantra until after what seemed like an eternity, Nick burst through the door again.

"I'm back. You okay?" The fear melted away the second he saw Nick again, quickly replaced with a triumphant grin.

"I'm great. I did it."

"Yes you did. I told you, you could get past this."

"Oh yes, and you know all."

"That's right." the ice chips tasted all the sweeter for his victory. Especially when he discovered he could lift the spoon on his own. A double victory. They sat in happy silence, awaiting for Warrick with the food to arrive. It had been almost an hour since he left and they figured he'd be back soon. Greg was drifting to sleep again when he heard someone step into the room.

He turned expecting to see Warrick, not the butt of a gun slamming against his eye. He nearly fell out of his chair in surprise, another hit to the back of the head sent him to the floor. He struggled to stand up but his struggles were rewarded with another two blows to the head. He slumped on the floor, the world fading in and out as he struggled to remain conscious. Greg jolted awake when he heard the thuds and saw Nick collapse to the floor. The terror was instant, straight to tunnel vision. All he saw, was the face of a man he never wanted to see again, ever. Before he could react there was a prick in his arm, he saw the syringe, the contents emptied. His world washed away.

--oo0oo--

Warrick had to admit, he hadn't liked being targeted for projectile vomiting, but the shower had felt unimaginably good. He felt the muscles that had been painfully tense from the beginning were finally relaxing. He was almost grudging to get out of the shower, but Greg was waiting for food. He was just getting in his car when his phone rang.

"Warrick…yeah… good…no I'm on my way now…thanks." Archie was awake. The relief was overwhelming, awake was recovering. The drive took too long for him, it always did lately, but he was glad when he finally made it to the door. He sucked in a breath and went inside.

Archie opened his eyes sluggishly, looking about disoriented. It took a moment for him to locate Warrick. They were glazed from the copious amounts of meds. He tried to pull a weak smile to show he was glad to see Warrick, but he couldn't. He was exhausted. He couldn't imagine being able to be so tired but he was. Everything breath was exhausted and sent a sharp pain through his chest, which would be unbearable if not for the morphine.

"Hey Archie, how do you feel?" it took all his strength to lift his hand and sign for paper. Every little movement was hard to accomplish. He'd tried talking when he first woke up, but that required the muscles that had been shot and it just wasn't worth the pain it caused, writing was painless.

_Tired…chest hurts_

"That'll get better, they gave you the good stuff no doubt. All you need is a little TLC from all the pretty nurses." Archie drew a smiley face on the paper since he was too tired to actually smile.

_Found something…tape _

"What was it?" his interest was peaked. It must have been something Archie thought extremely important for him to be mentioning it after being shot.

_Being watched…all of us…mole…leak….more than one…_

"Are you sure?"

_I can show you if you bring me laptop and dvd of conference_

"No, I trust you. As long as you're sure, I don't need to see it."

_K_

"I have to go take care of this. I'll be back. Have them call me if you need anything." Archie nodded tiredly, a slight grimace as a tendril of pain shot through his chest again. Warrick paused at the door for a moment.

"Archie, you're the best." the smile was all he could ever want as he rushed to Greg's room. He had every intention of telling Nick and Grissom. He suddenly felt the strongest urge to look over his shoulder. But he didn't. He folded the paper the paper neatly, small enough to remain hidden in one hand. He swung the door open, the recoil against the wall a dull thud. He looked up and froze in his tracks.

There was a strange man standing over Greg, whom was clearly unconscious, half slumped off the bed. Off to the side, Nick was on his knees, swaying dangerously that Warrick wondered how he was staying up, one hand cradling his bleeding head, the other searching vainly for his gun holster, which was empty. It had taken him about two seconds to assess the situation, it took one to react. He lunged at the stranger with all his strength.

Both collided into the opposite wall the a thud. The man knocked him away with a solid punch to the eye that made his see stars for a moment. The two pushed back and forth, kicking and punching. Warrick was surprised by how quickly the man could move. He threw another punch wincing as the skin on his knuckles broke against the man's teeth, rewarded with a solid knee to the upper abdomen. When he felt the first rib go, he knew that he was going to lose the fight. The man picked up Nick's gun from somewhere just and Warrick charged him. The blow was dizzying but not enough to stop the momentum as he lurched into the guy, the gun clattering away.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Nick stumble to his feet, swaying worse than before, hand straying to his hip where his gun should have been. He abruptly plunged sideways, sinking to his knees, an arm now wrapped around his waist, desperately trying not to get sick while he figured out which spinning room he was supposed to be in. He watched Warrick try to pull his gun only to have it viciously knocked away, right towards him. He fumbled to pick it up, not sure which one it was as he was suddenly seeing double. The first one he'd tried was wrong, but the second was solid metal.

His vision blurred severely, the gun too misshapen for him to see which end was which. He had to feel the gun for a moment before he figured out how to hold it. When he raised the gun to shoot, he couldn't figure out which blob to shoot. They were both moving back and forth quickly, blending together. They were indistinguishable. He was about to just pick one and shoot when a large foot crashed down on his hand out of nowhere. He cried out as he felt a tiny bone in his hand snapped, crushed between the foot and floor. He felt a swift kick to the ribs followed by two more even harder. He was wheezing for air when the weight of the foot twisted and increased, the pain extreme as another bone gave out.

The world zoned, moving in slow motion around him. He could only hear the roaring in his ears. He blinked sluggishly. It took him too long to register what went on around him. He was having to focus just to breathe steadily. The spinning rooms were unbearable. He couldn't figure out whether he was standing, upside down, or on his side. He barely registered seeing the gun appear in the man's hand, or the second man that had appeared restraining Warrick, careful not to stand behind him, or the small trail of blood from a gash above his black eye.

It took him a moment to recognize the silencer attached to the gun. The man aimed in in slow motion, though in reality it was less than a second. He was fighting to break free, slowed by another hit to the head. He kicked out, landing a solid hit against the knee. Nick didn't hear the howl of pain from the man over the roaring in his ears. The man recoiled, slamming into the wall. Nick closed his eyes in what was supposed to be a blink but it took him a good ten seconds to reopen his eyes.

When he did, Warrick was no longer restrained but up against the man, both of them fighting over something that he couldn't see between the two. The man suddenly pushed forward slamming Warrick against the wall, unable to escape. He didn't know what happened, he wasn't coherent enough to realize the gun went off, all he saw was Warrick go perfectly still for a moment, his eyes glaze and drain of everything as he sank to the floor and didn't move.

He was jerked up roughly, swinging sideways and down, held up only by the man. He couldn't stop the rooms from spinning. The world blurred unrecognizably, the grip tightened around his arm, pulling him towards the door. The other man was carrying a limp Greg close behind. The last thing he saw was Warrick unmoving in a pool of blood, as they were dragged away.

**A/N: Cruel laughter AHA! AHA!**


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: I see I struck a nerve. You weren't expecting that were you. Hehe, that's been planned from the beginning, hehe. Evil, I know. Okay, so here is the next chapter. I'm off to write chapter 21! (told you I still needed my villains) Oh one last thing, italics are thoughts, just so ya know!**

Chapter 20

The world was floating. He could see Nick, wobbling on his feet, being dragged away. He was trying to resist but he could barely stand. A man was carrying Greg completely. It was a mere minute before they were out of sight. Gone. The world was floating. He couldn't move. He tried to move. He was so heavy. He blinked sluggishly. Everything was moving in slow motion. He had to move, he had to get help. Pain radiated from somewhere on his torso but it was so widespread, he couldn't pinpoint it. He blinked again. He was tired, he wanted to sleep. But he couldn't sleep, he had to get help.

He numbly felt his hand move jerkily away from him. He tried to push off the floor but his arm shook too much. He couldn't get up. He tried again. He had to get help. They took Nick. They took Greg. He tried again and again to get up, but each time he slipped down, unable to hold his own weight. He lay there, shaking, all his attention on breathing normally, the pain starting to overwhelm. He held his body tense, afraid to move for fear of the pain that radiated outward. He felt himself starting to shiver but he tensed up and quelled the movement. It hurt too much to shiver.

He jolted suddenly when he realized his eyes had closed and he was drifting to sleep. He hissed regretting the jolt instantly. He breathed in and out shallowly, desperately trying to slow it down and work past the sudden shock of pain. Another shiver racked through him. It took longer to dispel the movement this time. He was so tired. He should sleep for a few minutes, it couldn't hurt anything.

STAY AWAKE! You have to stay awake. Don't go to sleep. STAY AWAKE! Get up! You have to get up! Get help…get up get up get up!

He gulped in anticipation. The voice in his head was right. He had to get up, he had to get help. But how? He'd already tried to get up. His arm couldn't handle it. He had to try something else. He looked around again sluggishly, blinking at the blurry world. He had to find a way to get up. If he could reach the call button he could get help. He looked around again. He was about a foot away from a wall, at least it looked like one, the world was too blurry to be sure. It took him longer than he would like to formulate his plan. It took even longer to actually start moving.

Clumsily he forced his body to roll, onto his stomach. The pain intensified a hundred times sending a sudden shot of adrenaline. Shakily he quickly pulled back ending up on his knees heavily. He had to stay there for a long while, swaying back and forth, a hand to each side for balance, sliding away from him in his own blood. The thought of him sitting in his blood made him shudder. He had to move. Slowly he crawled towards the wall. Painfully he braced against it and slowly stood, held up almost completely by the wall. He locked his knees and looked around. The call button was on the bed, three feet away. It should have been easy.

He slid one foot forward a bit in preparation for pushing off the wall. He took as deep of a breath as he could, which wasn't much, and dragged the other foot forward. He found himself tipping forward in a fall. He tried to catch himself on the table but the table fell with him. They landed with a crash, the corner of the table nailing him in the back, knocking the wind out of him. He rolled away from it slightly and just lay there limp. There was no escaping the pain now. It reverberated through his entire body as he gasped vainly for air. He just lay there shaking for a long time, waiting for the pain to ebb. It hardly did.

He didn't know why but his gaze drift to his hands. They were covered in blood. He should have felt some emotional response, but he remained indifferent to seeing his hands covered in his own blood. Then he looked at the edge of the blood pooling beneath him. H watched it expand, a tiny bubble lunging beyond the current pool, the edge quickly rushing up to meet it.

Cool. I've never seen blood while it's pooling, just after. I could watch this all day. Almost mesmerizing, soothing. Makes me want to sleep.

He wasn't aware of the small smile pulling at the corners of his mouth as he watched enchanted. His eyes drifted closed slowly, lulled towards sleep.

_Wake up! Don't sleep. You can't sleep! _

Why not? I'm tired. I should sleep. That's what tired people do.

Stay awake! You can't sleep. You need help! Stay awake!

I'm so cold. Why is it so cold in here. So cold. He was shivering violent, teeth chattering incessantly. He was barely aware.

_C'mon! Distract yourself. Keep awake. What happened when you walked in the room? _

Ummm…I saw Nick on the floor. I think he had his head bashed in really bad. He could barely stay on his knees and his head was bleeding. Greg was falling off the bed unconscious. I wonder what it's like to have your head bashed in? Nick knows I bet. Didn't look too fun. I wonder how many times they hit him with the gun? Wait? Did they hit him with the gun? I didn't see? Hmmm…I think they would have to, he's got a pretty hard head.

FOCUS! YOU NEED TO FOCUS!

I wonder why nobody is coming? Shouldn't someone have come to check on Greg by now? He could probably use another dose of drugs. Wait. He's not here. Why isn't he here again? Warrick started to drift asleep again. The voices in his head becoming faint and distant.

_STAY AWAKE! AWAKE AWAKE AWAKE! _

Gotta sleep…so tired…cold…hurts…

No stay awake! Don't sleep…awake awake awake!

"Be quieths, bolfs of youse" he slurred out loud in a hoarse whisper, not realizing he was talking to himself. He shifted on the floor and his hand brushed against something. Curious he looked towards it to see what it was. He saw a yellow blob. It took him a moment to realize it was the folded piece of paper.

_You should hold onto that. Don't want anyone but Griss to see it. _

Why? Oh well. He grabbed the paper in his hand and held on. He lay there, his body consumed by a cold numbness. His thoughts faded away and he stared ahead with glazed eyes, barely conscious. Shouldn't someone have come to check? Or heard the gunshots? _Gun shots? What gunshots? I didn't hear any? Was someone shot? I don't remember hearing any gun fire? Who was shot? Someone should check on Greg, I would hate for it to be him. Where is everyone?_

He lay there, shivering violently, teeth chattering, the pain washing over him unbearable as the world started drifting away. His ears were roaring, the world tilted on it's side slightly, graying at the edges. The grey slowly floated towards the center, his blurry vision mere pinpoints. He vaguely saw the call button, a bloody hand print just below the button. He didn't realize how close he'd been to getting help. It was just an object to stare at. He tried to stay awake. He couldn't remember why. He was so cold, so tired. Why was he so tired? He couldn't figure out why. Slowly the world melted and he drifted unconscious without another thought, in a pool of his blood.

--oo0oo--

Grissom was relieved. He'd finally escaped. He'd been busy trying to sort out the mess at the lab. They were running out of their precious lab rats. The best two had already been temporarily eliminated, hopefully not permanently. Everyone was enraged by what happened. Some still shell shocked. This was the first he'd left the land of stress and confusion. No one could figure out how James got the gun or how he'd managed to stay ahead of them the way he had. But now he'd managed to escape, off to see the people he'd been wanting to see for forever.

He felt guilty about taking this long to see Greg. He didn't feel guilty for the time he'd been in San Francisco, but he'd been awake here, in Vegas for two, maybe three days depending on what time it was, which he didn't know, and he was only just getting there to see him. It wasn't that he didn't care, because he found that he cared far more than he'd realized in the beginning, but he couldn't get away until now. When Nick had called say that Greg had woken up, he'd nearly made it to the door before he got sucked back into the chaos. But no one could stop him now, he was already on the road.

He walked briskly towards Greg's room. The hospital was quiet. More so than usual. He wondered why. He was grateful for the quiet though, he'd had anything but quiet at the office. It was peaceful, relaxing to not hear a sound, at least silence that wasn't a result of him losing his hearing. He shook his head at life. It was a mess. At least pieces of it were improving. They had Greg back, awake, and steadily improving, physically, he wouldn't know about emotionally until he actually saw Greg.

As he approached the door he noticed a strange smell. It was a smell that didn't belong. He was about five feet from the door, his long years of experience told him instantly that he was smelling blood. The hairs on his neck went on end his hand gripping his gun as he raced towards the door. He didn't hear anything from inside. He opened the door slowly, gun ready, scanning the room silently. Empty of intruders. He saw the blood instantly, surrounding Warrick. His heart stopped.

Warrick was lying on his side, an arm pinned beneath him angled towards his back, the other in front of him, bent towards him. The pool of blood beneath him was frighteningly large. A table was just behind him with blood on the top, as well as blood on the wall, including a hand print. He looked deathly pale. He pressed a shaky hand against his neck, blessing anything and everything for the extremely weak, tacky pulse he felt, though he could barely feel it at all. He turned a slack Warrick onto his back and peeled back the bloody shirt.

There were two large bloody holes high up on his abdomen, bleeding too heavily. His skin was incredibly cold to touch. He grabbed the blanket off the bed with the pillow. He laid the blanket to cover everything from the chin down, then present the usefully absorbent pillow to staunch the blood. Warrick groaned, head lolling sideways. His eyes fluttered open and stared ahead blankly. He blinked sluggishly, barely breathing. Grissom chanced jumping up to press the little red emergency button on the wall, returning quickly replacing the pressure on the bullet wounds.

"Warrick" he blinked twice, faster than before but otherwise didn't respond. "WARRICK!" Gil yelled. He swallowed and slowly looked at Grissom. He blinked again, mouth opening slightly desperate for air. Gil felt immense impatience. Where was the staff? Warrick was nearly bled out by the look of all the blood not inside him. He squinted weakly.

" 'ss?" he barely heard it.

"Hey Warrick, I'm right here." he could feel the panic overwhelming. He'd lost Nick and Greg already, he couldn't lose Warrick too.

"F'r 'u" his arm just barely twitched. Grissom looked down and could see something yellow in his hand. He didn't touch it.

"From the attackers" Warrick shook his head weakly.

"Fr'm 'rchie" he slurred.

"Okay, I'll take care of it." he shuddered and tried to curl forward wincing audibly, breathing faster and more shallowly, the constant shivering was getting worse, his teeth chattering loudly. His eyes drifted closed and his breathing slowed with a new wet rasp. He could feel himself spiraling downward towards oblivion.

"Warrick! Stay awake. Hold on, don't give up. Please don't give up, not now. Not you too."

" it was barely a whisper.

"I'm working on that." the pillow was almost completely soaked through. He was being dragged under. He couldn't form a thought. He wasn't even sure how he had woken or what had woken him. All he knew was that Grissom was there. The world was unrecognizable and fading fast as he was dragged downward into oblivion.

Warrick went slack, eyes rolling back into his head. Grissom panicked. He pressed two fingers against his wrist, nothing. He went to the neck, pushing hard into the pulse, nothing. The panic overwhelmed. The pillow abandon he began compressions. He'd barely started when he was shoved aside by doctors with a defibrillator. He stopped breathing, the world stopped turning as the doctors fought to revive him. His vision tunneled, centered on Warrick's body as it arched off the ground to crash back down. The flat line roaring in his ears. The small, erratic, but continuing beeps that met his ears next were heaven. He'd barely registered that it was there when Warrick was taken away on a gurney.

He walked out, the world in fast forward around him. He made sure that no one else went into the room. He suddenly remembered the note in Warrick's hand. He'd said it was from Archie. He opened it quickly, reading through it three times. The words hit like a block of ice in his stomach. He looked up and the world was moving even faster. He pulled out his cell phone, watching Warrick being rushed down the hall turning a corner.

"Brass, it's Grissom. I need a team down here. Pull some people from swing shift. We've got a shooting at the hospital."

"On my way. Who's been shot?"

"Warrick. Whatever happened he was able to fight back at some point."

"What about Nick and Greg, how did they fair in all this."

"They're missing. I'm about to get security footage."

"On my way." they hung up. He suddenly had an epiphany and rushed towards the desk. The nurse at the station looked up dutifully.

"Excuse me, they just rushed a Warrick Brown to emergency surgery. He had a fight bite on one of his hands, it is absolutely necessary that I be able to swab it before they clean the injury. I'm with the Las Vegas crime lab" the nurse was surprised. That was not a normal request.

"Ummm…I'll speak to the doctor the moment they are out of surgery."

"Thank you. If anyone asks, I'm at your security center." she nodded. He was getting the security tapes. He had to know what happened and how Greg and Nick could be kidnapped from the hospital. His next stop would be Archie. He had to know. Who was the traitor among them?


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N: No more entirely bold chapter...yeeee!**

Chapter 21

He watched impatiently as the person rewound the security tape. They only had outside footage for the parking lot. The only places with cameras were storage closets with surgical equipment and drugs and Greg's room hadn't been anywhere near there. He would still check. He leaned in closer as if he would see more. They'd gone through almost an hour without seeing anything, starting at the beginning of the tape. _How long had Warrick been there like that?_ He gulped, too long. He could feel the panic rising up again. It was getting harder to beat the emotions back.

"Stop, go back." the man obeyed.

"Now let it play." A lone van pulled up and two men with hats to disguise their faces pulled up. They walked into the hospital.

"Now fast forward until they come out." Grissom watched as the two men walked back out. One was carrying Greg, slung over his shoulder unconscious. Just behind those two was the other man, gripping Nick by the arm. Nick was stumbling and swaying like a drunk, holding his head, which though the video wasn't very clear, it was clear that his head was bleeding, and that he was being held up solely by his captor. They returned to the black van, with the back seats removed and chucked Greg in there none too gently. Grissom clenched his teeth enraged. The man that had been carrying Greg went around and climbed into the driver seat.

The man with Nick went to throw him in the back, but Nick got a foot up on the edge of the car and pushed back with all his might. Not expecting resistance the man dropped him. He crawled away at a snail's pace on his hands and knees swaying as he went. The man quickly caught up with him and delivered a vicious kick to his ribs, knocking him onto his back. He lifted him and dragged him back to the van, and just before literally throwing him inside, he slammed a gun against his head with all his might. Nick went limp instantly. A moment later they were driving away. Fifteen minutes had lapsed from when they'd first come.

"Now fast forward until I pull up." He watched as minutes went by in seconds. His heart beat faster as they passed by without him pulling up. The panic rising again. He beat it back again. He had to keep his cool. His head had to be clear. The nameless man paused the tape as soon as he saw the image of Grissom getting out of his car. Gil's heart dropped into his stomach as he looked at the time lapse. _An hour. Warrick had been like that for an hour. Why didn't anyone noticed? Someone should have checked in long before that. Where was the nurse on duty?_

"Find the nurse on duty at that time. We have to talk to them." he walked out briskly. He'd thought of something else. Greg had been on a heart monitor, and someone was supposed to be watching. Why hadn't they noticed that he was suddenly flat lining when the wires were removed? He got directions quickly and was at the correct station almost immediately.

"Excuse me, which screen monitors Greg Sanders, the patient in room 2023?" the woman immediately pointed to the third monitor on the right.

"This one here. He's got a nice strong pulse. Best it's been for a while now." Grissom stared at it shocked.

"I'm going to have to ask you not to touch that monitor again, it's going to have to be printed and checked by a technician."

"I have to ask why."

"Because, Greg Sanders was kidnapped an hour ago. That's not his pulse."

--oo0oo--

The first thing Greg noticed was that it was cold. He didn't know why. It shouldn't be cold. _Did I kick off the blankets? No that can't be it, Nick would have put them back on right away. What's different? _He swallowed slightly nauseous. The room felt like it was doing a slow orbit around him. He wanted to open his eyes but he felt too tired. He was strangely heavy and knew he'd been drugged. _They must have given me a bit of a higher dose of the pain meds, probably knocked me out._ He shivered. It was way too cold in here. Something in the back of his mind, something he was supposed to remember but couldn't, rankled at him. He let himself drift, trying to remember what it was he'd forgotten. It wouldn't come to him so he just lay there, waiting for the drugs to wear off. The heaviness slowly lifted and he realized that he probably didn't want the drugs to wear off after all now that the pain was returning.

There was definitely something different now. It bugged him so he put up the effort to open his eyes. The world was blurry at first. He blinked successively and the world cleared. A wall, he was staring at the wall of a room. Not a hospital, the wall was blue? His pulse sky rocketed. He wasn't at the hospital. He was on the floor of a room, staring at the wall. Suddenly the memories of the man with the syringe flooded over him. It'd been a dream. He really had dreamed being rescued! He pushed himself to sit up braced against the wall painfully. His ribs were screaming at him. _What did I do to my ribs? They were better than this earlier._ He looked about the room trying not to hyperventilate in his panic. His heart skipped a beat when he saw Nick, lying face down on the other side of the room near a corner.

Slowly he crawled on hands and knees, dragging the leg in a cast, too heavy to lift, and wincing with the tiniest pressure put on his wrist still in a cast. He wouldn't let it slow him down though, he had to get to Nick. It was slow going and he was shaking badly from the effort, thoroughly exhausted but eventually he made it.

"Nick! Nick! Nick! Wake up, please wake up. Nick! Wake up, wake up, wake up." he shook his shoulder roughly but Nick didn't so much as twitch an eyelash. Greg noticed the blood for the first time. There was a good amount of it matted in his hair and streaked down the side of his face. He touched a shaky hand to the blood. It was dry. _We've been here for a while._ he swallowed back another wave of nausea and fear. He looked at Nick's hand, covered in purple and black bruises swelling badly. _I wonder what happened there?_ He suddenly wondered if Nick had any other injuries. He looked him over. He didn't look like he had anything else, but then he saw the faint boot print on his midsection.

He pulled the shirt back enough for him to see the nasty bruise in the shape of a boot. He hissed with sympathetic pain. He replaced the shirt and leaned against the wall in the corner. He could feel himself shaking with fear. He hated this. He didn't want to be afraid, he was sick of being afraid. He didn't know what to do. He was confused. _How could they kidnap us from a hospital? A HOSPITAL for goodness sakes. I thought we were safe. Hadn't they arrested everyone? How did they get us? _He gulped trying to contain the panic, taking slow, deep breaths. He had to stay calm. He looked down at Nick again, already bloody and unconscious and knew that this was real, he was kidnapped again, and this time he'd brought Nick with him. So he sat, next to Nick, blinking back the tears of fear, and waited for the inevitable.

--oo0oo--

Grissom printed the doorknob with extreme care. So far everything was smudged beyond recognizably, but he was trying anyways. It didn't take him long, he was using the best mix he had. He was done in minutes, the prints, or smudges, that he lifted now safely in his kit. He took a deep breath, detaching himself from the knowledge that the crime scene was Warrick's. The room was a mess. Blood everywhere. At first all Grissom saw was Warrick in the pool of blood again. He shook his head and was back into reality. The yellow flags dropped like flies.

He took photos like mad, photographing anything and everything that looked like it had any semblance of importance. He worked the scene alone. Detachment abandon, this was personal, and he would come out on top, with all his team, alive. If it was the last thing he did, he would get them all out of this, alive. The resolve made him almost perfect. He'd never looked through a crime scene so thoroughly. He found things that he might have missed on any other case, but not this one, he wouldn't miss anything.

--oo0oo--

Greg sat dozing. He didn't want to sleep, but he was so tired, exhausted from his trek across the room, he couldn't stay awake. He couldn't sleep deeply either for his apprehension. He jerked awake, wincing at the pain it shot through him. He was missing his morphine. He wondered how long they'd been here. Long enough for the blood on Nick's head to dry at least. It felt like he'd been here forever, but that could be right, a good amount of hours maybe, he prayed that they hadn't already reached a day.

He looked down at Nick. He was still unconscious. He hadn't so much as twitched the entire time Greg had been awake. It scared him that Nick wasn't moving or showing signs of improvement. He checked Nick's pulse again, just as strong and steady as before. So why wasn't he waking up? Did they really hit him that hard? He should have woken up by now. He pursed his lips and shook Nick shoulder again.

"Nick, wake up. Please wake up Nick, wake up." nothing. He gulped down another wave of terror. Nick had been his link to reality in the hospital, his proof that it was over and he was safe. Now he was his only link to sanity as he was again kidnapped. It wasn't fair but he was glad Nick was here, he knew he would have lost his sanity if he'd woken up here again alone. He would have lost all semblance of calm and courage if it weren't for Nick, unconscious or not. When he did wake up, he would know what to do, he could save them.

"Well well, hello." a sing-song voice said. Greg jumped his heart leaping into his throat. He hadn't heard the man come into the room. He looked at him terrified. The man sauntered forward a wicked grin present.

"Nice to see you again Greg. Feeling better." the very tone sent shivers up his spine, this was the man that had wielded the knife towards the end.

"W-what did you do to him." the man smiled and took a step towards Nick. Greg tensed. He put a foot on Nick's shoulder and with a strong push rolled him onto his back. No response.

"Well, he didn't seem to like the idea of us taking you. We had to shut him up somehow. Otherwise he might have stopped us, fought back."

"Why d-did you c-come back?"

"Well, we still want that name, not that it's all that important now. But the boss never quits until he gets what he wants and he's in a very foul mood. Don't know which one of you gets to be the punching bag yet. So far all I know is that one of you is the quick punching bag, after we get the name of course, and the other, will be kept around for a long time, a slow, satisfying, kill. For years to come, at least."

He knelt down beside Nick, the wicked grin growing as he produced his knife, pressing it against his forearm.

"Don't you dare touch him." he didn't know where it'd come from, it just popped out, with an intensity he didn't know where it came from. The panic seized him as the man stood and walked towards him.

"Getting bossy are we? I think you need a little lesson. You aren't in charge here, I. Am." Greg gulped petrified. The man was looking him over with a scrutinizing gaze, contemplating what to do. When he crouched threatening in front of him Greg shrank away into the wall and closer to Nick, his breaths coming in shallow, successive gasps.

"Oh no, he's not going to save you. He can't save you. No one can." he pressed the knife high up on Greg's shoulder and slowly dragged it, biting painfully into his skin all the way down to almost his wrist. He made a matching slice on the other arm. Greg was hyperventilating eyes wide with terror. The man was now dragging the knife, tracing his collar bone, the hard steel grating against bone. He never registered when he stopped until he felt the tip of the knife digging into his chin, lifting his head to look the man in the eye.

"That's all I'll do…for now…but you remember. I. Am. In. Charge. You don't make demands. You don't do anything, or say anything, unless I tell you to. You belong to me. You belong to James. You're alive because we let you live." he stood.

"I'll be back later. Remember, it's in both your interests now, that you be perfectly cooperative. We're in the mood for some fun." he delivered Nick a vicious kick and left the room. Greg watched, trembling, not breathing. He looked shakily at Nick, then back at the door, then to his bloody arms, the reality overwhelming him. He sat there, bleeding and sobbed.


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N: Yes, this is late, but I'm sorry, I got interrupted and had to do schoolwork. I still feel sick but not as bad. Let me know what you think of the chapter! Disclaimer: Don't own em'. **

Chapter 22

Grissom just stared. This was getting beyond him. They'd found the nurse that had been on duty at the time. A single bullet between the eyes. Now he knew why Warrick hadn't been found for so long. No reason to check, and the nurse on duty was dead. Found about ten minutes ago by another nurse who freaked and screamed bloody murder. He watched as a CSI processed the scene. He was too exhausted to do it himself, but too untrusting to just leave the person to their work, so he watched passively. It boggled his mind. He couldn't figure out whom the traitor or traitors were. He needed to talk to Archie.

He glanced at the clock again. It was taking too long. He'd sent some poor nameless grunt, the new guy at the office to his house to get a set of clothes. The boy had been too intimidated by Grissom to argue. Apparently he was a slow driver as well. Grissom refused to see Archie while he was covered in blood. It was bad enough that he'd had to watch all those videos and listen to the tapes, but seeing Grissom covered in Warrick's blood while he was in the hospital, that would just be too much. Gil reminded himself that when they all got through this they were all getting paid leave plus raises, especially Archie. The crime scene was done being processed when Grissom jumped hearing his name being called loudly.

"Grissom! Griss!" he looked around and much to his surprise and dismay he saw Catherine crutching towards him. He was happy to see her alive and well, but he was mad that she wasn't home resting, safely locked away.

"What are you doing here you should be home resting."

"Who was killed. Don't you dare tell me it was Nick or Warrick or Greg. It wasn't Archie, please tell me it wasn't any of them. They weren't the ones kidnapped or shot were they? It's all over the news. Answer me Gil Grissom!" she was fuming. Grissom took a step back fearfully.

"What's all over the news? What did they say." now he was fuming. They sidestepped into an empty room, Griss closing the door behind him.

"The it's being aired everywhere that there was an attempted murder, a murder, and two kidnappings at this hospital. They said it was two kidnapped CSIs and something about an attempted murder on another CSI. Please tell me it wasn't any of them." Grissom look at the floor ashamed. He couldn't protect any of them. He'd failed them all.

"Gil?" he couldn't look at her. He'd had one simple thing he'd had to do, protect those closest to him, and he couldn't even do that. Catherine pressed for an answer again.

"I can't." she looked at him horrified.

"What happened?"

"I don't know."

"What do you know Grissom? Who was kidnapped? Who did someone try to kill." he winced at the words.

"W-Warick's…Warrick's" he couldn't get the words.

"Warrick's what? Don't tell me dead, please don't."

"Almost. Last I heard he was critical. He's still in surgery. I don't know where Nick and Greg are, they were kidnapped, that's all I know." she gaped at him but he wouldn't look at her.

"How? How did they get to them. Nick was watching him. How could they do that? They were guarding each other."

"I don't know Cath, I just don't know." she could see the guilt written all over his face. Sorrow filled her heart as she saw the exhausted look of defeat on his face.

"What can I do to help?" Grissom thought for a moment. Any other day he would have sent her home with an earful just for offering help, but he was running out of people that he knew he could trust. The top people on his list were either kidnapped or hospitalized. It left very few that he had no doubt about. He needed her help.

"Go back to the lab, watch everyone. See if anyone is acting suspicious. Out of the ordinary."

"Why Grissom?"

"Warrick had this, it's from Archie." Catherine had to read it four times before it truly sank in.

"Who would do this? Don't they see what they're really doing?"

"That's why I need you at the office, be my eyes until I can get there." she nodded.

"Not a problem, I'll watch everyone like a hawk."

"Thank you." he took a deep breath beating back the emotions that had suddenly welled up again. He was near his breaking point, he could feel himself on the edge.

"It's not a problem, I'm more than happy to help. Now, I intercepted some kid with some fresh clothes for you, so here they are, go talk to Archie, we've got to catch these guys." he took the clothes silently. She gave his shoulder a quick, comforting squeeze before leaving, her task at hand. It didn't take Grissom long to change out of his bloody clothes and meet up with Brass on the way to Archie's room.

"So I talked to the tech looking at the heart monitor thing, it was bugged. It didn't matter what they did, always a strong steady pulse. They're trying to trace back to the computer that hacked into the system, but the guy was smart they aren't making progress."

"Just what we need, computer geniuses." he retorted sarcastically. They turned into Archie's room. He was sleeping deeply. Guilt stabbed at Grissom knowing he had to wake him up. He called his name and gave his shoulder a very gentle shake.

"Archie. Archie." he groaned shifting away from them but didn't wake. "Archie." his eyes fluttered open looking around glazed for a moment before landing on them. He smiled weakly.

"Hey." he whispered hoarsely with a grimace. Another stab of guilt.

"How are you feeling?"

"Miserable, but better."

"I'm sorry I had to wake you, but you wrote this note right?" he held up the note. Archie nodded, paused, squinting at the paper.

"Why is there blood on it?" he rasped. Guilt, guilt, guilt. Blast his observance.

"Umm…there was kind of well there was an incident." he stumbled over the words horribly. He didn't want to tell Archie, but it was too late now.

"What happened." Everything and anything that could go wrong, that's what.

"Umm…Warrick was shot, twice in the upper abdomen, he's in surgery now." _I totally just glossed over the fact that he's barely alive. _The horrified look on Archie's face cut him deep. Guilt, guilt, guilt. He gulped.

"Wait, wasn't he with Nick and Greg? Are they okay." _Curse your observation! Couldn't you be oblivious for once. Blast, now I really do have to tell him._

"Yeah, They were, they were kidnapped. We're doing our best to find them." Archie look downcast. _No, don't look so disappointed, please don't. I tried, I really tried. I tried to protect them, really I did, I just failed, at everything and everyone._

"There are at least six moles."

"Six?" he was horrified. That many people were traitors?

"Saw the reflection of tv screens, one for Gil, Brass, Warrick, Nick, and ones for Sara and Cath but those were turned off. They were watching us the whole time." Grissom gulped.

"Do you know who?" _Jeez, stop asking miracles of him, he's been shot twice and your demanding answers he shouldn't have to know._

"No, I found the reflections. Greg was trying to tell us during the conference too, that we were being watched, he didn't say who though." _Don't worry, that was more than enough. Definitely more than should be expected from you while your in the hospital._

"That's great Archie, thanks." he nodded as they headed towards the door. "Just rest okay."

"Sure, find them okay."

"Sure thing Archie." _You don't know for sure. You thought for sure that they were safe the first time, or that the lab was automatically a safe haven against these guys. Liar, liar, liar._

--oo0oo--

The world was spinning and heavy. There was a loud buzzing roar in his ears and his head felt like dynamite and jackhammers were cracking it open. He tried to move but he was numb all over and had lost all control over his muscles. He wanted to open his eyes figure out why his head hurt so bad but they were so heavy. The pain intensified, joined by a new, dull but constant pain somewhere near his ribs. It wasn't so bad except for his head. He lay there for the longest time, just trying to orient himself.

He tried to think of what he remembered last, but he could only get as far as sitting with Greg, waiting for Warrick to come back with food. Something happened after that, but what? He racked his brain over and over again painfully but couldn't find the answer. The room was definitely spinning now and his head hurt unbearably. Somewhere along the way he realized that his hand hurt too with sharp stabbing pains. All at once wave after immense wave of nausea crashed over him. His eyes shot open and he managed to crawl about two steps before he was puking for the life of him.

After a long time of painful heaving he crawled away shakily, trying to decide again which of the three spinning rooms he was actually in. He could see the world in black and white blurs with colored spots dancing before his eyes. It made his head hurt even more. A few feet away he collapsed again, exhausted, swallowing back another wave sickness convulsively. He couldn't imagine how his heat could hurt so bad. _What did I do to it?_ he lay there in exhaustion to tired to fight the downward pull and soon slipped back into oblivion.

The second time he woke it was much in the same way. Three spinning rooms, his head pounding mercilessly, and a pain in his ribs and hand. He found himself puking painfully, shaking from the effort. He crawled away remembering that last time he lost consciousness and didn't want to land in the mess he'd made. He eventually found the corner of the room and braced himself against it. He still felt like he was going to be sick but he swallowed it back. He could feel the oblivion pulling at him again but he pushed it away desperately. He didn't want to be unconscious right now.

He examined the blurry world, blinking rapidly trying to add definition to the smudges of color that he saw. It only worked marginally. He was in a medium size room without a window, two hanging light bulbs from the ceiling, and a door that was most likely locked. He could see something in the corner across from him but he couldn't quite see what it was. He blinked again but it remained blurry. He shook his head and regretted it, going back to the furious blinking. After a bit his vision cleared a little more. Greg. It was Greg. He was sitting in the corner, shaking badly. Nick could see blood on his arms and the front of his shirt. He sported a new black eye and a split lip.

He crawled over to him sluggishly, at moments having to stop and deep breath while swallowing furiously to keep from throwing up. He hated how weak he felt, swaying side to side as he went, but eventually he made it next to Greg, sitting next to him using the wall to keep him up. He tapped him gently on his shoulder, well above where the gash started. Greg flinched.

"Greg"

"I'm sorry." he whispered.

"For what?"

"I got you dragged into this."

"No you didn't, none of this is your fault Greg. I'm glad to be here with you."

"Why? Why would you want to be here?"

"Well, I don't _want _to be here, I'm glad to be here because I can protect you better than if I'd been left behind." Greg didn't answer, but he looked as if he believed Nick.

"So uh, how'd you get these," he pointed to the new injuries, "I don't remember you having them before." Greg looked at him pitifully.

"He, he was going to cut you up a while ago, you were still unconscious, and I-I don't know, I just yelled at him not to touch you and he got mad. And gave me the cuts."

"Well I'm grateful and sorry. You shouldn't have to go through that. What about the shiner and lip? There isn't more than that is there?"

"I tried to get the door open. They got mad and roughed me up a little. I think my ribs are broken again, or cracked. I'm not sure." Nick heart broke again. It was happening all over again and he was completely useless, again. He could already feel the incessant pull of oblivion again, far stronger than before.

"I'm shorry, Greg. Nexth time justh let them do it." he didn't realize how badly he was slurring, the edges of his vision going grey. Greg panicked when Nick suddenly slumped to the floor unconscious.

"Nick! Nick! Oh please wake up Nick." but he knew he wouldn't. This concussion was doing a number on Nick and there was nothing he could do to help. He felt so useless. Suddenly he was tired of being the victim. He was tired of being useless. Greg Sanders was going to fight back.


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N: Yeah, another chapter! I'm writing furiously for you guys so you still get them everyday. You are officially at the same place in the story as me, but don't worry, I know where this is going and you won't be bogged down with long waits! Tell me how much you love me! We're almost there, just hold on for a little longer!**

Chapter 23

Catherine felt the frustration close to explosion. She'd been here for hours under the pretense of being unable to stand being home recuperating out of the loop after Warrick was shot and Nick and Greg were kidnapped again. It was true, but it was also good cover. She couldn't be here under the excuse of work, she was on medical leave. It was driving her nuts, no matter what anyone was doing, it was normal. Everyone was where they were supposed to be, doing what they were supposed to be doing. No suspicious activities, no unexpected phone calls or too numerous calls, just normal.

She was still trying to wrap her brain around there being traitors amongst them. People who knew what was happening and was actually helping it happen. These horrific things that had been done to Greg, and could possibly be happening to him again, and now Nick as well, leaving Archie in the hospital, and Warrick now fighting for his life, and they were helping it happen, she just didn't understand. So she continued to watch. People which never before would she have doubted, she questioned in her mind with murderous scrutiny.

She sighed and hobbled wearily to the break room for a cup of coffee. She was exhausted. She shouldn't be here, but Grissom needed her. His lack of protest when she offered her help was the clinching proof. He was at the end of his rope or very close to it. She poured herself a cup of black coffee before heading to the freezer for something to eat. She had no idea what was in it but she was going to check. As she opened it a bag of frozen peas fell out and rolled towards the back, almost behind it. She grumbled as she awkwardly bent to pick it up. Who kept a bag of peas in the work freezer? That was just weird.

It was then that she noticed another item behind the fridge. It was considerably smaller than the peas. She looked closer. It was a crumpled piece of paper unknowingly abandon behind the fridge. She glanced about the room for a moment. She was alone and there was no one in the hall. Swiftly she pulled out a glove from her pocket and picked up the note, cautiously unfolding it. Her heart thumped with excitement as she read the note, hobbling briskly to the print lab. She read the note again and again.

Bring me Sanders, take out anyone in your way.

--oo0oo--

"Alright, thank you doctor, I'll make sure next of kin are notified." the doctor nodded and walked briskly away to his next patient. Siler didn't make it. He hardly knew the man as an acquaintance but today he felt like he'd lost his closest friend. It was a stab to the back hearing he hadn't pulled through. He was deep in thought when another doctor walked up, a different one then before.

"Excuse me, Mr. Grissom?"

"Yes?"

"A Ms. Sidle is awake, would you like to see her." _no no no, then I'll have to tell her what a failure I am. NO! _

"Yes, of course, lead the way." as he walked his nervousness and agitation increased with every step. How was he going to tell her that they'd found Greg, held onto him for a while, and tonight they'd lost both him and Nick, nearly killing Warrick in the process. They could still lose Warrick. The thought made him shudder and want to cry, but he didn't. Instead he quietly slipped into her room, the doctor dismissing himself. He would have thought she was asleep except she opened her eyes when he walked inside. _Blast, no chance to stall._

"Hey Griss" she whispered hoarsely.

"Hey Sara. How are you feeling?"

"Nothing really, they've got me on the good stuff."

"That's good."

"They said I got shot, don't remember. Last thing I knew I was getting out of my car."

"That was just before it happened."

"You saw?"

"Yeah, I was…I was out there for a breath of fresh air."

"Oh. Did you find Greg yet?" _Don't ask that. Please don't ask that. Let me look less like a failure to you at least, you don't know I failed. _

"Ummm…not exactly." her face darkened. _Here it comes, I'm going to get the chewing I deserve. _

"You haven't found him. Grissom it's been what two weeks since I was shot? And Greg was kidnapped before that!" she sat up abruptly and immediately regretted it, sinking back onto the bed, swallowing back the new surge of pain.

"Well, no it's not like that…well…a lot happened after you were shot. Just let me explain."

"Okay, what happened?"

"After you were shot, I don't know how long after, we found some evidence that led us to where Greg was. We'd found him."

"You found him? Why didn't you just say that?" she looked so utterly happy, it broke his heart. Then she noticed his downcast expression.

"He was alive right Grissom? He was alive."

"Last we knew yes, he was alive and improving."

"Last you knew? What changed?"

"Very early this morning Greg and Nick were kidnapped from the hospital."

"How? How could they get them from the hospital?"

"I don't know, we all thought they were safe, I mean, Nick and Warrick were watching over Greg and they just blew through them both."

"Warrick was with them? What did they do to Warrick?" she gulped, Warrick wouldn't have let them go unless he couldn't prevent it, and that meant something happened to him. Didn't it?

"He was shot twice, upper abdomen. He nearly bled out before I found him. These guys are good. They managed to make sure that no one would find him. The only reason I did was because I was coming to see Greg. He was like that for an hour without help." they sat in solemn silence for a while. She couldn't believe it. How could they have been able to do that, just cut through Greg's protection like that and take him out of a hospital. Wasn't it supposed to be safe at a hospital.

"Well, stop keeping me company and go find them, I'll be fine." he looked up at her.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, now go, find Nick, find Greg, that's what's important."

"Alright, but Sara, stay safe okay."

"I will Griss, and remember, this isn't your fault, none of it is."

"Thank you Sara, for everything." she smiled back at him.

"Not a problem, now go, go find Nick and Greg." Grissom left feeling slightly better. Sara was right, it wasn't his fault. He couldn't be blamed for this, unless he gave up, and he would never give up.

--oo0oo--

Greg sat behind the door, just far enough away that when it was opened it wouldn't hit him. He was waiting for them to come back. He tried to ignore the fact that he was severely weakened, barely mobile, without a weapon and he was going to take on multiple assailants that were in perfect health and bigger then him. He gulped down the anticipation. This was insane, he knew he couldn't win. _So why am I so determined to fight?_ The answer was easy. _Because if I don't then I'm back to being the helpless victim that can't get past the moment. The only thing cooperating will do is prove that I've given up and buy a little time. I'm not ready to give up. _

He looked at Nick again, propped up in the corner that he'd originally huddled in. He was worried about him. Especially after his sudden loss of consciousness. He didn't know how long ago that had been, but he knew that several hours at least had to have passed and Nick didn't so much as twitch. . During their short five minute conversation he'd been slurring a little, but at the very end he'd been near incoherent he slurred so badly. He must have a really serious concussion And it's not getting any better with time. They had to get out of here, and fast. His last words haunted him, playing over and over in his mind. Nick didn't want Greg to protect him. _Does he think that I can't? No, that's not it. He saw the cuts I got for trying to protect him already. It's not worth it to him, being protected, if I get hurt because of it. Why? I can't just sit back and watch them hurt Nick. _

He felt the fear rising up, threatening to consume him. He closed his eyes tightly breathing deeply, in and out, in and out, telling himself what he would do. He repeated his plan over and over again, omitting the consequences if he failed. He couldn't focus on that or he would never go through with his plan. He looked back at Nick again, an unconscious source of strength for him. He didn't know why but every time Greg looked at Nick, unconscious as he was, he felt safer than before, stronger too, just strong enough to fight back. He hated his plan, it was the worst plan ever, but it was all he had.

He was going to take them by surprise. Stun them long enough for him to break free. Escape the building and find a phone, call for help. What he hated most about his plan was that he would have to leave Nick here. He could get Nick out of here in his state. Maybe if he could stay conscious long enough to get away he might be able too, but he highly doubted that, especially since Nick wasn't conscious, and when he was it was only for a few minutes. In those minutes he'd proven that he wasn't capable of walking either. There was just no way for him to get them both out. He knew that Nick would agree with him in current circumstances, but he still hated it. It would be better if their roles were reversed. Nick would have been able to get them both out at the same time, but that wasn't the reality of things. And he knew Nick would tell him to get out if he could.

He jumped as he heard the key turn in the doorknob. He stood, wincing slightly. It was time. He quelled the frightened shake that was beginning. Now wasn't the time. The door opened. He made his fists as tight as he could. Two men walked in slowly, arrogance pervading their presence. They weren't expecting retaliation. Fools. He lunged with a rage filled cry, taking the first by surprise with a solid punch to the eye. He used his arm in a cast like a club landing a blow to the other guy's stomach, shouting in pain from the jarring recoil.

He just kept hitting them with all he had, ignoring the pain, using the adrenaline and fear to fuel his fight. One of the guys went down. Greg was amazed and elated. That was until he felt the fierce grip on his arm pulling him backwards, a second hand gripping his other arm. He squirmed and screamed and struggled desperately. He had to get out, get help. He wasn't ready to give up, he couldn't let this happen again. He saw the other man coming at him in a blur and pressed all his weight against the man behind him, holding him up and kicked out at the man in front of him. He crashed to the floor loudly.

Nick jolted awake, disoriented, not sure what jarred him awake. He blinked blearily for a moment and realized what was happening. He could see Greg being held up by a man behind him, pulling out of a powerful kick, squirming to break free of the man's grasp. Another man lay slightly stunned clenching his stomach. Nick reacted instantly. Bumbling to his feet he charged at the man holding Greg. He fell against the man, all three spinning around, Greg, suddenly loose again, catching himself on the doorframe from falling. He realized suddenly that this was his chance to escape. He hesitated, looking back at Nick. He couldn't leave him.

"GO!" Nick saw the hesitation, he couldn't let Greg miss his chance of escape. In an instant Greg disappeared through the door. The man on the floor was stumbling to his feet and disappeared after Greg. Nick spun and delivered a vicious punch to the guy behind him and bolted after the man chasing Greg. He had to slow him down, give Greg a chance.

He just cleared the door when a hand jerked the neck of his shirt. He flew backwards, back into the room, his back connecting with the wall. He sank downwards dizzily. He stumbled to stand up but every time he made progress kick after kick would knock him down again. Before he knew it, he couldn't get up. He heard the man turn to leave and he grabbed his ankle desperately but the man easily jerked free. The door slammed shut and the lock clicked. He'd lost. Greg was on his own, again.

Greg ran as fast as he could, well, he hobbled at least. He really wished he weren't wearing a cast on his leg. That would make things much easier. His head was pounding and it was getting harder to breath. He had to stop but fear pushed him forward. He was almost there, he was in the hall and could see the front door. He was almost there. He could hear someone pursuing behind him. In the next instant a hand gripped a fistful of his hair was yanked backwards. He fell backwards, hard.

Immediately James was on top of him. His fear tripled. He'd known at least two people were here. The knife man, and one other at least, but until now he hadn't known. He struggled and screamed and tried to kick out. Anything to get free. He'd been so close to freedom. James' knee dug into his elbows his arms already going numb. He could feel James trying to open his mouth. He clamped down as hard as he could. A fist slammed the side of his face and he grudgingly felt his jaw go slack.

He felt two large pills dropped into his mouth. He tried to spit them out but suddenly there was liquid in his mouth and James was shoved his jaw closed, clamping a hand over his mouth painfully. He couldn't spit them out, he had to swallow before he choked. They took affect almost instantly. His body grew to heavy, he felt disconnected. He couldn't form a single thought and his vision swirled with smudges of color without definition. He never felt James climb off of him, or being picked up and chucked into another room, devoid of everything, away from Nick, away from freedom, the door locked. His world devoid.

Nick sat up shakily. He strained to hear what was going on outside the room but he couldn't hear anything. He knew he had a good number of bruises and it hurt a little to breathe, but he didn't think they cracked or broke any ribs. The silence was killing him. Did Greg escape? Did they get him again? He had to know. He hoped he got away. He hated himself for not being able to do more to help. He cursed himself for not being strong enough. It had only been two guys and he couldn't even take out one. He recognized James, but the other guy hadn't been there at the house when they found Greg. He'd slipped through the cracks. He blinked sluggishly, the pull of unconsciousness tugging at him again. _Why can't I stay awake for more than a minute? I have to stay awake, now's not the time to sleep. STAY AWAKE._

He jumped when the door opened again. The world was too blurry. A single man walked into the room, cautiously this time. He smiled. It wasn't James, it was that other guy. He was shaking with rage, a insane glint of madness in his eyes. This was not a man he wanted to be mad. But he was mad, he was in a rage. Nick now understood Greg's fear of him. Everything about this man was frightening. It took everything he had to keep himself from shrinking into the wall. He gulped.

"What's the matter? Lose something." _stop, stop, stop. Don't taunt him. The man is insane and in a rage and you're egging him on! Stupid, stupid, stupid. _

"You are really stupid. You don't want me mad. I'm dangerous." he had a frighteningly calm voice that contradicted the shaking rage that Nick could see. One small step and this man would be out of control. He could see that the man was barely containing the rage. _What's he waiting for? Why is he holding back? What do I care, don't look the gift horse in the mouth._

He yelped in surprise and pain as the man suddenly whipped him up, dragging him towards the door. He stumbled laboring to maintain his footing, the room spinning wildly. He couldn't see anyone else around. This would be his opportunity to fight back, find Greg, but he could barely stand let alone fight. He'd had his chance and failed. Now he was dealing with the consequences.

They passed through a door that was slammed shut behind them and suddenly he was flying through the air. He landed hard on his side and was rolling and bouncing painfully down a flight of stairs. By the time he reached the bottom he just lay there, holding his body tensely, afraid to move, struggling for each deep breath. The man sauntered gleefully down to the bottom, standing ominously over Nick.

Nick could feel himself being watched, his eyes screwed shut tightly. Abruptly there was a tight grip around his neck, cutting of his air. He pushed at the wrist feebly trying to get free. He could feel himself being dragged backwards. He was shoved hard against a pillar near the center of the room. The man clapped a handcuff on one wrist pulling it behind him around the pillar, yanking the other wrist to join it, cuffing it to the other around the pillar, behind him. He looked around the room blearily. No Greg.

"He got away didn't he?" he slurred, the pull towards oblivion nearly taking over him. The man glanced at Nick when he spoke. He could see that he was close to losing consciousness again. Such a pity, he'd brought him down here to have some fun, but it wouldn't be fun if he lost consciousness. It would have to wait until later.

"Who? That sniveling little brat? Escaped. He tried. But he paid the price for fighting back." Nick really didn't like the sound of that. Greg hadn't gotten away after all.

"What do you mean?" _Stay awake, stay awake. Find out what happened to Greg._

"Simple. Your dear Greg Sanders is dead."

**A/N: MWUAHAHAHAHAHAHA!**


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N: Wow, look at all those reviews. I should kill Greggo more often! MWUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!!! Now that he's dead, I fix my eye on another!**

Chapter 24

Catherine processed the paper like there was no tomorrow. She'd found three beautiful prints on them. Any other day she would have run them through CODIS, but not today, today she was running them through AFIS. It made her want to constantly look over her shoulder knowing that there was a traitor among them. She shivered at the thought. Who would be able to do things like this and still live with themselves? _People without conscience or soul._ The computer beeped at her with a match.

Her eyes went wide and she checked it twice more before being satisfied. Next she checked the other two prints, hoping they came back the same, that there was only one traitor among them. The prints were old, she wasn't entirely sure how old, she suspected the note had been there since Greg had first been taken, but she really couldn't be sure.

Her heart sank as the results came back as a match for two different people from the first. It made her sick. More than one person was doing this, helping James wreck havoc and terror on the people she was closest too. Her hand went to the phone then she hesitated. _I only have a fingerprint, that'll be shot down easily in court. Gil already knows there are traitors. I should wait, do more digging, if there's three there's possibly more. I'll do more digging, get more evidence, then I'll call him._ Her determination resolute, she bagged the paper cautiously. _Wait, what if someone is watching me? Where can I hide these while I'm gathering evidence? I don't want anyone to know what I'm doing._

This thought stumped her for a long time. If only she knew where Greg kept his coffee, no one had found his stash, it was truly the perfect hiding spot. The thought made her smile and made her sad at the same time. It reminded her of their predicament. Where was Greg and Nick? Were they okay? She hated not knowing. She did know that if either or both were dead when they found them, no broken leg or man made law could hold her back from reaping vengeance on the traitors among them. She shook the thought from her mind. _They can't be dead. They can't be dead. Don't think like that. If they wanted Nick and Greg dead they would have just killed them at the hospital._

For the time being she printed her results and stuck them in a folder with the bagged note, she was going to keep the folder with her until she found a way to make it safe from prying eyes. She blinked away the tiredness, missing her cup of coffee, abandon in the break room after finding the note. She was walking by his office when she heard it. He was on the phone, seemingly doing what he was supposed to. She glanced his way and saw him quickly jotting down a note.

"Yes, yes, no don't worry, I'll put someone on it right way. No that won't be necessary, consider it done." he hung up. She continued on pretending to have not paid attention or even heard redirecting herself into the lady's room. She whipped around finding herself face to face with Jacqui. They looked at each other shocked. Jacqui's face was tear stained, mascara running badly, a tissue in hand with more wiped off mascara.

"Catherine."

"Jacqui. Are you okay." she hiccupped.

"Sure, I can't complain. I mean, I haven't been hospitalized, kidnapped, or attacked, what do I have to complain about." she wiped fruitlessly at the mascara again, the blushing of her cheeks poorly hidden as she turned away again.

"There's nothing wrong with being upset, or scared. We've all had a hard time. There was an attack in our own lab, a place we thought was safe. That should scare anyone."

"I suppose, I just keep wondering who will be next. I mean they've already gotten Archie, and they got Greg twice, and now Nick. Warrick has been shot. I keep getting this feeling that I need to be looking over my shoulder, like I'm being watched." Catherine pursed her lips. _This certainly seems genuine. She could help me. But do I trust her? I did stumble upon her like this, she certainly wasn't expecting it. I should trust her._

"Well, you can help me with something."

"What?"

"We do that there are traitors among us. Archie found the first evidence, then I just found more. It's what I've been doing. I'm trying to connect the dots and figure out who the traitors among us are."

"W-what do you have." Cath handed her the folder. It was far more empty than she'd like, but she was only just beginning. Jacqui stared, shocked at the names.

"Why would they do this?"

"I don't know, but I'm about to add a bit more evidence to that I think. But I'll need someone to keep an eye on that folder from prying eyes."

"I'll guard it."

"Thanks, I'll get it to you in a bit, but I think I should walk out of her with it since I walked in with it."

"Okay, good luck, and be careful."

"I will, oh, and the only other people who know about this are Archie, Grissom, and Warrick."

"My lips are sealed." Catherine walked out, feeling more determined than ever, especially knowing she had help rooting out the traitors. There was no one in the halls, and his office was empty. She slipped in silent, putting on her gloves. She took the notepad he's been writing on. A page was ripped off but she could see indentations on the paper now on the top. _Fool._

She slipped it into a bag and hiding it in the folder. Before she left she grabbed another notepad, ripping off a page and placing it in the exact same spot, pocketing the ripped off page. She slipped back into the empty hall silently, her intrusion gone completely unnoticed. A small mercy. She made her way slowly to the break room. She didn't want to act suspiciously by going straight to Jacqui's lab. She reheated her coffee, sipping it slowly, sitting on the couch, the file sitting safely next to, a little fatter than before. Ten minutes later she began her trek to the lab. It was empty except for Jacqui.

"Hey, could you print this and find out what was written on the previous page?"

"Easy as pie." Catherine stayed, making small talk with Jacqui, talking about everything and nothing while she worked. Nobody dropped by thankfully. She'd never seen Jacqui work so efficiently. There was only one set of prints and they were a match to a set on the previous note. That was no surprise. They were just glad that they were the only prints on it, there could be no arguing who wrote the note. Next they took a piece of charcoal and rubbed the page gently careful not to damage the already present indentations. There was only one thing written.

He knows too much, persuade him to cooperate or take him out

--oo0oo--

Archie sat there, tired, but he was also tired of sleeping. His mind was bugging him. He was forgetting something, but what? He knew it was important, that he could remember, but of course, he didn't remember what this important thing was. He winced as a sharp pain shot across his chest, again. He was supposed to be self-medicating with the morphine, good stuff, but he didn't want to. It made his brain fuzzy, which normally he really wouldn't care, but he would never remember what it was he was forgetting if he was on the pain meds. He was determined to figure out what it was he was forgetting before he took another dose of the meds.

His stomach grumbled again. He was hungry. But he wasn't sure he wanted to call the nurse for food. She would probably notice that he wasn't taking any morphine. It wasn't unbearable without it, yes he'd rather be on the med, but he had to figure out what he was forgetting. It rankled him to know end. Even with the morphine he really didn't think he could relax until he figured out what it was he was forgetting. After a while he became aware of another more urgent need. He had to go to the bathroom.

He glanced at the nearby urinal he was supposed to use at times like these. _Not a chance._ Slowly he managed to sit up, swaying slightly, wincing at new shots of pain. He shouldn't be doing this. He didn't care, he was not using that thing and there was even less chance of him asking for help with something like that, especially with a woman as his nurse.

He had dignity to maintain after all. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and hesitated, waiting for the room to settle again. Leaning against the pole with his numerous iv bags and morphine pump he slogged toward the bathroom after pulling of the heart monitor sensors. It was slow going and tiring, but he made it to the restroom.

He was on his way back, going slower than before, his legs shaking again under his weight, his chest burning and stabbing at him, but he was determined to do this on his own. To late to do otherwise anyways. He was about halfway to the bed when he realized he wasn't alone. He glanced towards the door to find his nurse walking in, a glare that could kill engulfing her face. _Busted. Forgot the heart monitor. _

"Mr. Johnson!" _she's worse than my mother._ He plastered the best innocent grin he could on his face.

"That's not going to work with me young man. Get back in bed. Now!" she grabbed his arm and sped him along not letting go despite his protests that he could walk just fine on his own, until he was back in bed, heart monitor reattached.

"I was fine."

"I don't appreciate you trying to escape every time I'm not in the room."

"I wasn't trying to escape, I was using the restroom."

"That's what the urinal is for, you aren't supposed to be walking around yet."

"There is no way I'm using that, I don't care what you say. I'm perfectly capable of taking myself to the restroom, without help."

"Oh right, perfectly capable, just like last time when you collapsed on the way back to the bed." she glared viciously.

"I did not collapse the last time I tried this." she opened her mouth to protest but closed it.

"You're right, it was the time before that." he smiled with a childish, triumphant grin.

"See, perfectly capable."

"One and a half out of three doesn't count as capable." he looked at her dumbstruck.

"What do you mean one and a half, you're short changing me."

"No I'm not, you didn't make it to the bed this time."

"You interrupted and dragged me the rest of the way, it was at least one and three fourths success with one fourth brutally taken from me." they glared at each other, neither backing down. A stalemate.

"I can have you sedated again. All I have to say is your little rebellion is a danger to your health."

"You just try it." another glaring contest. Another stalemate.

"Are you going to feed me or do you starve your patients?"

"I'm considering it with you. Leverage for cooperation."

"It'll never work." another glare, another stalemate.

"Soup. Chicken or beef?"

"Top Raman, chicken." her glare sharpened.

"What kind of soup? Chicken or beef? Raman ain't soup, it's a heart stopper."

"Cup of Noodles?"

"Not a chance." Archie grumbled and sank into his mattress disappointed.

"Chicken." the nurse turned to leave the triumph visible in her grin. He glared and stuck his tongue out at her turned back. To his surprise she whipped back around.

"Youngin' you put that back in your mouth 'fore I get my clippers." he stared at her stunned and sucked his tongue back into his mouth, her threat far from empty. She glared at him for a moment before whipping out of the room like a hurricane. _How did she do that? Creepy old lady._

When she returned they glared but neither would be goaded into another battle. She left him his soup and a glass of apple juice well within his reach. She left muttering something about him being the most contradictory patient she'd ever had. He smiled. He was a memorable patient. He ate his soup, longing for his Raman. He thought about his previous jaunts he'd made, much to her dismay.

His first attempt had been sudden and he was very much doped up so he hadn't thought about the heart monitor or the iv stand. He'd just made a run for it. He'd made it there, but halfway back he'd collapsed the room spinning, his legs to shaky to hold his weight. She won that battle after dragging him back to bed. The second attempt had been better. He remembered the heart monitor, but he forgot the iv stand. He couldn't believe how grouchy a person could get when they had to put the iv back in, but he'd made it there and back without trouble. _I almost had it, why did I have to forget the heart monitor. Oh well, I'll remember both next time. By the time I get out of here I'll be the best, worst patient ever. I should get an award for the most escape attempts. _

He smiled at the thought. He hadn't pegged himself as a bad patient, having never been a resident at a hospital before, but there was just no way they were getting him to use that plastic tub for his needs. Who knew how many other people used it before. He didn't care what they did to it in the name of sterilization, he was not using it. He would have to be dead or unconscious. He took a sip of his juice.

He glanced up surprised when he heard the door open again. _Now what does she want? I just got done with a rebellious jaunt, surely she can't think I'm trying again already._ It wasn't the nurse. It was a very big man. He looked to be almost six foot tall and Archie guessed three hundred pounds but he really couldn't be sure. The man had slicked back hair and a tacky looking brown jacket. His eyes were almost black and were oddly cold.

"I'm sorry, you must have the wrong room."

"No no, I've got the right room." That was odd, he didn't know this man. He felt uncomfortable and very intimidated by the man. He gulped.

"Umm…okay, who are you? What is it you want." he really felt uncomfortable about this guy. He could feel the hairs on the back of his neck raising on end and the goose bumps forming on his arms. He gulped again trying to look calmer than he felt.

"I am Detective Kelps" _Okay, why does him being a detective not make me feel any better about him being here?_

"W-what is it you want?" _Blast, don't stutter, don't look intimidated, no matter how scared of this guy you are._

"I have a proposition for you, and it's in your best interest to accept." Archie's heart rate sky rocketed when the man stepped all the way into the room, locking the door.

**A/N: Before you say I'm mean(which I am) just know that there was a much meaner spot I could have, and originally intended to leave you at, so, I'm nice, but I'm mean. Fear not, this will come to an end, I'm just having to flush all the evil traitors out of their hidey holes! MWUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!**


	25. Chapter 25

**A/N: Okay, you guys probably didn't think you were getting a chapter today. I know it's late in the day but I was writing this and it was getting massive and I discovered that large portions of it needed to be in the next chapter so I ended up having to write almost all of the next chapter so I could get this one finished. Anyways that's my excuse, we get Archie angst in this chapter(please don't kill me)**

Chapter 25

Grissom walked briskly down the hall of the hospital. He'd received the call half an hour ago that Warrick was out of emergency surgery. He was still very much critical, but he'd made it through the surgery. This was his chance to get that swab, it could very well lead them to whom had attached Warrick and kidnapped Nick and Greg. Yes they knew that it was someone among James' crew, but if they wanted a conviction, they had to know who had done the deed. He cursed the Vegas traffic. He wished he could have gotten here quicker but some idiot had run a red light and got in a car crash just as he'd climbed into his car. Traffic was barely moving.

Grissom couldn't help but think that the fates were pitted against him, dogging his every step, his every move, throwing the worst they could at him. It was as if the superior, all-mighty powers above had gotten bored so they poked a couple of bears to anger, focusing that anger on him and his team and then did everything within their power to impede him and aide the bears. It was frustrating t say the least. He followed, stony silent behind the doctor that was leading the way. They'd cleaned up all the other injuries except for the fight bites on his knuckles, they had agreed to leave those until he got his swab.

The doctor waved him into a room in ICU. It was a private room, fairly large compared to normal rooms. Clearly they'd chosen to give Warrick one of the best rooms they had available. It gave Gil a small ray of hope that Warrick was being so well taken care of, he only hoped it would make a difference. The doctor remained outside, giving them their privacy. Another thing for which he was grateful. He took a deep, calming breath before stepping into the room. He gulped and walked inside.

Warrick's bed was in the center of the room, dozens of machines towering over and around him. The only sound was the awful mechanical whoosh of the ventilator, breathing for him because he was too weak to do such a simple action alone. Competing with the ventilator was the faint beep of the heart monitor. Grissom felt sick when he realized he could quite slowly count to three between each beep signifying a heart beat. He found himself again wondering how they had come to this point. He was the only one not hospitalized, though Catherine had been release. Nick was kidnapped and Greg was on round two of being kidnapped. Sara and Catherine were victims of failed assassination attempts by the looks of things, and Archie, he was simply caught up in the middle of a tragedy at the lab that never should have happened.

He'd been such a rock for them all. He was a constant presence that they'd hardly recognized how much they'd depended on and befriended him. A cheerful friend in the good times, and a shoulder to cry on or an open ear to listen and give advice and comforting words whenever needed. Throughout these past weeks, he'd not complained once, he simply went above and beyond his job making sure that they were taken care of, eating, getting something to drink, even sleeping when they could. After he'd been shot his absence had been a startling shock to them all. He saw the rapid decline in emotional well being, as well as the overwhelming exhaustion. With him not there to make them, none of them had had anything to eat or drink, and didn't bother with sleep.

Warrick especially. Nick had been the first to go to Archie for a shoulder to cry on and someone who would listen, and had been Archie's most consistent visitor, he'd been out of contact since they'd found Greg. But Warrick had remained behind, bouncing between cities, being more of an errand boy than anything else, without complaint. It wasn't his official job, but it was what had kept Gil afloat and not be overwhelmed by all that went on. He would never say anything but he'd seen Warrick slip silently into Archie's lab, the door closed the unspoken signal to stay out for a while. He would be in there for long periods of time, just talking, venting emotions Grissom knew, though he'd respected their privacy and curbed the urge to listen in or ask, wanting to know how his few remaining team members were truly fairing. He was their unsung hero it turned out. He would have to remember to change that, give him the praise and recognition he deserved.

Dawning on his gloves he picked up Warrick's hand gently pulling out the required swab, making short work of the task. He should have heard a wince, or a hiss of pain, he actually wanted it in comparison to the unconscious silence that met him as he swabbed the injured knuckles. He blinked back the tears of anger and frustration as he put the swab away, his task complete. He turned back and truly assessed Warrick's appearance, not as the CSI, but as a friend. It was dismal at best. He was horribly pale, still as stone, his skin cold to the touch still. He had numerous iv tubes weaving in and out of him, one of them clear, the other red as it put blood back into him. It didn't seem to be helping any. All in all Warrick looked dead, the only sign of life in the click whoosh beep from the machines that breathed for him and tracked his heartbeat.

He gulped again as he fought to rein in his emotions again. He couldn't let them loose, not yet. He would go home and set them free, but not until everyone was safe, again. He would make sure they stayed safe this time, before he allowed himself so much as a second of emotional venting. He gulped again, packing up his stuff he threw Warrick one last glance, wishing with all he had that he would recover from this. That they would all recover from this.

He rushed down the hall, deep in his thoughts, an unbearable need to escape taking over him. The hospital was too clean, too sterile, it was suffocating him and he had to get out. He had to be doing something more to find his team and glue them back together. He had to make sure they all made it through this, and that they could never be broken apart like this ever again. If he couldn't protect them, he'd at least make sure they pulled through, he wouldn't make opportunity for a second chance at protecting them.

He put his stuff in the back of his car and started back towards the lab. He hardly looked at the road he was so deep in thought. About halfway there he realized that he'd forgotten to check up on Archie. He'd been so focused on his thoughts that he walked right passed the door without stopping. Not what he'd intended to do. He didn't have time to go back, but he didn't want to just push him off to the side either. Eventually he found the compromise, he would call him and see how he was doing. He grabbed his phone and had to think of the number for a moment then dialed quickly. It rang twice before being picked up.

"Hello?"

"Hey Archie, it's Grissom."

"Oh hi, ummm…what's up?" _Something sounds odd, or is it just me?_

"I was calling to see how you're doing." suddenly the call was one sided and very weird.

"Oh umm…I'm fine, I know you miss me, I miss you too." he didn't wait for an answer. "I know you're busy, I understand, just visit as soon as you get the chance. Okay, I love you sweetheart, bye." and with that the connection went dead. Grissom just stared at the phone flabbergasted. Either they had Archie really doped up right now, or something was wrong. _He didn't sound doped up, but he did sound different, almost…edgy even scared._ That was all it took. He turned the car in a u-turn wildly and sped back towards the hospital. He was making time to check on Archie.

--oo0oo--

Archie watched Kelps warily silently gulping down his anticipation. He watched as the man locked the door and leisurely walked over pulling up a chair next to the bed and propping his feet onto the foot of the bed. Archie unconsciously shifted his feet further away. He gulped again suddenly desiring to down the entire cup of juice. He was so thirsty, his mouth feeling like sandpaper. The man was looking at him, his eyes seemingly burning a hole in Archie's skull.

"A-a proposition?" he gulped again. He really wanted something to drink.

"Of course, you see you've attracted the attention of my…employer." he gulped again desperately trying to breathe normally.

"E-employer." Kelps smiled maliciously and Archie felt his spine tingle. He really wished someone would come.

"That's right. As you know he has his sources. We've been keeping an eye on you and the progress you make on those tapes. Especially when you discovered our headquarters location in the conference. Unfortunately for us we didn't get word of the discovery until it was too late."

"Oh."

"But then you kept going, you didn't just stop when you got the desired information, you continued to look for more. You found even more. You discovered that we had sources in your own lab." He paused hearing someone walk by briskly. The silence was ominous. Archie took a deep breath again, staunch the wince as a shot of pain sliced through his chest. He wanted his morphine back, but he definitely couldn't have it now.

"You didn't stop there either. You continued to push the envelope, you multitasked, listening to that audio tape from the conference and the tape we sent earlier. You heard something from Greg's muttering. At the same time you found those reflections, we hadn't realized they were there, but you found them, you found out not one but two of the mole identities."

"H-how did y-you know, I was s-shot right after I found them. I hadn't been able to tell anyone yet?"

"We had someone check up on your work. It's a big clue that you found something when you take the time to turn everything off. We knew you'd found something that you wanted to keep quiet, for a while at least."

"Oh." suddenly Archie remembered what he'd been forgetting. _Great timing genius, you couldn't have remembered sooner._

"That's right, you knew what to keep quiet when you saw it. That was what had made his decision final in the boss' mind."

"D-decision?"

"Of course, that proposition I mentioned. I'm here to recruit me."

"Why?"

"Because we don't have anybody in your particular field of expertise, you have a lot of potential, and you know how to keep something quiet." _What am I going to do? What am I going to do? I can't work for them, look what they did to Greg, and now Warrick, Sara, Catherine, and now Nick. They even shot me already. I can't work for them. What am I going to do?_ They jumped when the phone rang through the silence. Kelps pulled out a gun with silencer.

"One wrong word and you eat a bullet." Archie gulped and answered.

"Hello…oh hi….umm…what's up? Oh umm…I'm fine, I know you miss me, I miss you too…I know you're busy, I understand, just visit as soon as you get the chance. Okay, I love you sweetheart, bye." _Get the hint. Get the hint. Please get the hint._

"Who was that." his voice was icy and frighteningly cold as he continued to hold the gun point level with Archie's nose.

"Girlfriend, she…she heard I'd been shot and wanted to come see me but she can't get here till tomorrow so she called to see how I was doing." the man stared at him a moment more searching for the lie. Archie barely remembered to breathe. He was never so happy when Kelps sat back, pocketing the gun again. He couldn't stop himself, he was suddenly choking. He snapped up the glass of juice and downed the entire cup. Kelps was eyeing him suspiciously.

"I've been shot, I'm supposed to be a little thirsty." he hadn't meant to snap. _Oh gosh I'm gonna get shot for snapping at him. I didn't mean it, honest._ "You guys aren't going to make a habit of shooting me if I work for you, right?" _Stall, stall, stall. Pray Grissom got the hint._

"No, I don't believe we will shoot you once you work for us, we protect our own." _So shooting us before we work for you is just a prerequisite? Ask questions, pretend to be interested in the offer. Stall, stall, stall. Come one Grissom, get here fast. _

"H-how much would I be p-paid, if I worked for you?" Kelps smiled, his pearly whites showing. He looked like a malevolent cannibal and Archie was sure that he was going to eat him alive right there. He gulped again.

"A healthy sum of 15 grand every three weeks."

"R-really, fif-fifteen grand every three weeks. W-what would I have to do?"

"Not much, mostly you just do your job like normal. Every now and then we may have need of you to let something slip by unnoticed, or point out something specific to attention. Give us information every now and then."

"Wh-what good does letting some things go and some not do?"

"You don't watch much tv do you?"

"Sci-Fi addict, biggest part of my life except for work, and my g-girl." Kelps smiled again.

"Nobody's perfect. It's simple really, it gets the people we don't like put away and out of our way, and lets the people we need free, stay free."

"O-okay, I'll give it some serious th-thought. I'll l-let you know in a c-couple of days." Kelp's eyes narrowed coldly, burning a new set of holes in Archie's skull. He had to clench his hands that were under the blankets since his sudden mad grab for his drink, to keep them from shaking. It wasn't working. He only hoped that the movement couldn't be seen through the blankets.

"You don't get a couple of days, it's now or never Mr. Johnson." Archie was breathing faster and harder against his will, his chest hurting from the effort, but he was too afraid to notice, remembering the gun in the man's pocket and the words from earlier. _It would be in your best interest to accept._

"I-I have to d-decide now? Th-that's a b-big d-decision. I-if I g-get caught I-I'd lose e-everything." he gulped, he had to slow things down, he had to keep stalling, things were getting too tense. The guy was getting wound too tight and Archie didn't want to be there when he decided to snap.

"Who was really on the phone?" the man tensed, the gun reappearing he stood menacingly over Archie who shrank hard into the bed. "You're stalling, who was on the phone." his voice had risen in volume and menace.

"My girlfriend, it was just my girlfriend, honest." he pleaded desperately, praying that the man would believe. No such luck. The man looked like he would pop a vein as he grabbed Archie by the neck yanking him powerfully off the bed, slamming him hard against a nearby wall and holding him there. Archie saw stars as the room spun wildly.

"You're lying, who was on that phone, who's coming to save you? Huh?"

"N-no one, no one's coming." he gasped. The grip tightened cutting off his air. He felt like a fish out of water gasping fruitlessly for air.

"You're lying. You think if you stall long enough someone will come to save you? You're wrong. No one's going to come. No one cares. You're a loner. All you have is your work and your precious Sci-Fi channel. No one's coming, because no one cares what happens to you."

Archie screwed his eyes shut desperately his lungs burning for air. He tried to shut Kelps' voice out, he was lying, they did care. They had to care. He wasn't a loner. It wasn't true. Was it? He pushed against the wrist feebly. He needed air, he had to breath. Grissom was coming, he would save him. He cared, why else would he call? Someone was coming, they cared, they cared, they cared. He just had to last that long. He tried to say something but he couldn't he needed air. The grip loosened just enough for him to get in a small gasp of air.

"What's that boy?" he opened his eyes again a grey blob growing from the edges of his vision.

"Liar" he barely rasped. He never saw it coming. It had come from the ever growing gray area. The butt of the gun slammed against his eye, agony shooting through him. The room was spinning wildly. He could already feel his eye going black.

"You better watch your mouth boy, you might lose it." the grip loosened a bit more, barely. _More, more, I need more air._

"At-at least I d-don't have to b-buy m-my f-f-friends." each word was a painful effort. _What are you doing! Stop it! Stop it! Stop it! What are you stupid! The guy is choking you hold a gun to your head and your shooting your mouth off to him!_

"That wasn't very nice boy, you need a lesson in manners." the gun disappears. The grip tightens around his neck. His arms go dead slipping lifelessly to his sides. The grip is enough to make him dead to struggles, but not enough for him to lose consciousness. He looks about lethargically. He needs help. He can't move, he can't breathe. Help he needs help. He can't breathe. A glint catches his eye, he sees the brass knuckles. He tries to struggle, he has to move, he has to get away. He can't, his body is like lead that he can't lift.

The first blow his staggering. He tries to cry out but he can't, he can't do a thing. Blow after blow lands, his chest, his stomach, his shoulder, the pain is overwhelming. He just wanted it to stop. _Make him stop. Someone make him stop._ There was one last slammed to his face and then the blows stopped. He had no idea how long the beating had lasted. He didn't care, he was just glad it had stopped. The world was swimming around him, he felt like he was drowning. He was being pulled under.

"Well, Mr. Johnson, this is the end of the line for you. You shouldn't have disregarded our offer, now you're a liability and I have to kill you now. Your mistake." Everything wavered as if he were under water, he barely heard what Kelps had said. His heart thudded painfully against his chest. Air, he needed more air.

"Hmmm…how shall I do it? Perhaps I'll repeat the past and shoot you here." he ground the muzzle of the gun into his previous gun shot wound. A strangled cry of pain broke past the choke hold weakly. It sounded so faint to him. Kelps was grinning like a maniac, taking pleasure in his pain.

"Or perhaps I'll shoot through both. They'd surely go straight through this time." he moved the gun up to the other wound grinding it deep into the injury, twist it and turning it painfully. He wanted to scream, cry, breathe, anything but all he could do was cry out another weak vocalization of his pain. He could feel himself being dragged under and he couldn't fight it. _I can't breathe, I can't breathe._

"No, I don't think I will, I think I'll leave no room for rescue." he moved the gun higher and pressed it hard into Archie's forehead. _Nononononononononononono…I don't want to die. Not yet not yet. Please don't do this. Help. Somebody help._

He stared at the floor for a moment seeing the bandages fallen off during the beating. He dragged his eyes upward, his vision tunneled to pinpoints. All he could see was the gun pressed against his forehead. The sound of the hammer cocked back barely registered over the blood rushing through his ears. In the next instant there was a loud crash and a bang. Archie dropped like a stone, his mind gone blank.

Grissom rushed up the stairs toward Archie's room, the elevator to sedate of a mode of transport. He didn't know for sure, he could be wrong. He could be over reacting, but somehow he knew he wasn't. It had been something in the way Archie had sounded. Desperate, anxious, scared, a doped up person wouldn't sound like that. Besides, if he was wrong, he would be the only person that knew that he'd come back after just leaving. No harm in checking.

His heart thudded against his chest as he cleared the last flight of stairs. He skidded around a corner and slowed to a very fast walk. He didn't need directions, he knew exactly where to go. He knew where all their rooms were. It was the first thing he'd done was commit the location of each room to memory. He rounded another corner. He could see the room just down the hall. He was there in less than a minute.

The door was closed. He pressed his ear to the door, trying to hear if it was just a check up from the staff that required privacy. At first he didn't hear anything, then he heard a strangled cry of pain. He could hear a voice talking that sent chills up his spine and another strangled cry. He needed no more. His hand shot to the doorknob. Locked. He took two steps back and issued the most powerful kick he could muster, ignoring the painful jarring it sent up his leg. He rushed in gun drawn.

He registered the entire room in less than a second. The bloody gauze pads abandon on the floor, the shiny brass knuckles on the side table, but most of all Archie pressed against the wall, a firm grip around his neck, struggling vainly for air. The man was tightening his grip on Archie's neck as every second passed by. He held a gun with a silencer attached to it, against his forehead, his finger squeezing the trigger. Grissom fired a single shot.

**A/N: Haha, there a bit of Gunslinger Grissom, aren't we happy?**


	26. Chapter 26

**A/N: yay! everyone enjoyed Gunslinger Grissom! Well, here's the next chapter! Finished it late last night, very angsty! We're almost there! We've almost made it to the end! But for now, let's watch happily, applauding as Grissom snaps! hehe, curious yet? You should be!**

Chapter 26

The man dropped instantly, dead. He rushed to Archie, who had fallen limply to the floor. He kicked the man out of his way.

"Archie? Archie?" he grabbed his shoulders to keep him upright as he gasped desperately finally getting the lungs full of air he needed. Instantly he was hyperventilating, panic surging through him. Pain coursed through his body. He couldn't get enough air. He needed air, he needed more air. The world was rushing around him, drowned out by the roar in his ears.

"Archie, talk to me. What'd he do? Archie?" he only heard broken bits. Someone was talking to him. Who was it? It was so hard but he made his eyes look up. He had to blink a few times to clear the world. Grissom, Grissom was here. He couldn't breathe, he needed air. He was drowning, being pulled under.

"He shot me…he shot me…I'm dead I'm dead I'm dead" he felt a thrill of fear shoot through him. He'd come too late, Archie'd been shot again. He saw the blood soaking through the shirt and yanked it off ready to staunch the bleeding from a new bullet hole but there wasn't one. But there was definitely blood. Archie whimpered at the action. The old gun shot wounds were reopened ripped to a larger size and bleeding heavily. His torso was covered in giant black and blue bruises that were swelling and darkening to hideous shades. Hardly a spot on him wasn't bruised. His eye was nearly swollen shut and blackening, matching bruises all across his cheek bone and jaw.

The rage boiled over as he remembered the brass knuckles on the table. He fought the strongest urge to go over to the dead man and kick him around brutally. He almost wished he hadn't fired a fatal shot so that he could get the satisfaction of doing it with his bare hands. Instead he pushed down the rage for a later time. He pressed the shirt against one of the bleeding wounds. Archie curled in on it with a moan, his arms jerkily wrapping around his waist, his head suddenly resting heavily on Grissom's shoulder.

"St-stop p-please." he begged. Grissom swallowed the lump forming in his throat. He should have gotten here sooner. He'd failed again.

"Shh…it's okay, I'm just trying to stop the bleeding, it's okay." he tried his best to keep his voice steady and calm. The last thing Archie need was to hear his anger for not coming sooner.

"Hewasgonnashootme….hewasgonnashootme…I don't want to die I don't want to die…I don't want to die" he was losing coherency fast, the panic overwhelming him, hyperventilating and hiccupping, hardly allowing for actual intake of oxygen.

Grissom rubbed his back gently, desperately trying to calm him down. He didn't know what else to do. Calming people down, truly interacting with people when emotions were involved were his weakness, he simply didn't do it. He needed Catherine or Nick or Warrick, Sara, or Greg here, they would know what to do. He was at a loss.

"Hewasgonnashootme Hewasgonnashootme Hewasgonnashootme" Archie rambled incoherently his breathing short successive gasps trembling more violently than ever. He wasn't calming down at all.

"It's okay Archie, it's okay, he can't get you, I won't let him get you." he could feel the hot tears soaking into his shirt, the ramblings drowned by the sobs. Grissom held him tighter at a loss of what to do next. They just stayed like that for a while when to Gil's horror Archie went limp in his arms, the sobs stopping instantly.

He panicked, pulling him away to look at him. He could see him breathing but he still had to check his pulse just to be sure. It was rapid and a bit erratic but it was there. A small sense of relief came when he noticed Archie's breathing even out. His skin was icy to the touch though and Grissom realized what he should have noticed sooner that Archie was definitely in shock. He scowled, scooping him into his arms and lifting him off the equally cold floor back onto the bed. He moaned but didn't wake the lines of pain evident on his face. He gulped back another lump. He laid a blanket over him and pulled out his cell phone.

"Brass, I need you at the hospital now, Archie's room." and without a reply he hung up to meet the tide of doctors rushing into the room.

"It's about time you decide to show up." he growled at them.

"Oh, I'm sorry, when we hear gunfire in our hospital, we have this horrible policy of getting security first." she snapped back.

"Yeah, and where exactly do you store the so called security. You've failed to prevent or stop two kidnappings, and two attacks on patients of _your_ hospital."

"Well excuse me for not being perfect, it's a big hospital."

"Then perhaps you should think about getting a security to match, or at least one that makes an effort. He would be dead if I hadn't shown up. He had to call me for help because of an inept security."

"There was no indication anything was wrong, his pulse was strong and regular and he didn't exactly call for help from the staff."

"You know your computers have been bugged. You've known for hours. Why aren't you smart enough to figure out that you should probably check on the patients every once in a while! And it's pretty hard to call for help with a gun pointed at your face!" Grissom was bellowing by now. He'd had enough.

"Oh yeah, and how exactly did he manage to call you for help then!" the doctor rose up to match him.

"I called to check up on him, after all this hospital has clearly proven itself incapable of keeping it's patients safe, let alone alive. He managed to send a highly veiled plea for help while staring at a gun." she just glared at him defeated.

"ARE YOU GOING TO HELP HIM OR DO I HAVE TO DO THAT TOO!" he roared. She silently set to work pulling back the blanket to assess the injuries. She scowled.

"You have to leave while I take care of him."

"No, I'm staying here until I have one of my officers whom have proven themselves very capable, to guard and protect each one of my people admitted here. GET. TO. WORK." she gaped at his bluntness at ordering her around but immediately got to work. He tensed biting back the rage every time Archie groaned, winced, moaned, or flinched. It took all his strength not to push them away from him. After an agonizing period of time the staff was finished.

"He has three broken ribs mild bruising to his kidneys and lung, his bullet wounds were reopened and are now bigger than before. His jaw is clearly bruised and his cheek bone has some fractures and he's in shock but all of that will heal with time. We're ready to move him to a new room." he didn't care about the venom that dripped from every word.

"Good." he stepped out of the room, well out of the way as they wheeled the gurney out of the room ever so slowly being over cautious. Grissom turned like rabid pit-bull onto the two security guards.

"You two! You will stay here and keep this room secure. That means that you will wait outside the room, the door closed. You will not enter it under any circumstance and you will not allow anyone else to enter either. You will wait until Detective Jim Brass arrives. When he does, you," he pointed to one of the guards, "will escort him to Mr. Johnson's new room. You," he pointed to the other guard, "will remain behind and continue to keep the room secure. AM. I. CLEAR." They nodded terrified of him.

Grissom followed Archie's escort to his knew room silently, everyone keeping clear of him. He was currently an enemy to them and he liked it that way. He was going to keep it that way. He watched them like a hawk as they lifted him onto the fresh bed, situating him under the warm blankets, choosing not to replace the old shirt.

He groaned, eyes screwing shut tighter, clearly in pain, but still he remained unconscious. Grissom nearly growled at them right there. They quickly inserted the necessary iv and numerous other tubes into his hand, eying Gil warily when Archie audibly winced. Lastly they injecting a hefty dose of morphine and scurried out of the room. Grissom settled himself into a chair protectively close to the bed and stared at the horrid bruises, cursing each and every one.

--oo0oo--

Nick woke with a start, lurching as far to the side as possible puking. He heaved painfully for what felt like an eternity before his stomach had mercy on him. He sat back shakily, happy that he could rotate a little around the pillar, moving away from the new mess. Suddenly he realized that a blindfold was wrapped tightly around his eyes. He couldn't see a thing and that scared him. He didn't like admitting to himself how intimidating these men had been. He'd hardly seen them but they gave off the air of superiority, power, and sheer evil.

They didn't care what they had to do to get what they wanted, and they had the power to get just about anything, and they knew it. He remembered what they'd said about Greg just before he lost consciousness again. It was getting to be very inconvenient not being able to stay awake. Greg was dead. The very sentence sent shudders of horror, disbelief, and sorrow through him. He didn't want to believe. Why would they kill Greg? Hadn't they needed him for that witness name? Then he realized that they could use him for that just as easily as Greg. The whole team had known the name. he gulped. Greg couldn't be dead. He couldn't let himself believe, but then, they hadn't lied about anything they'd done so far. If they'd said they inflicted pain or a mercy, than that's what they'd done. Greg really could be dead.

He gulped back a fresh wave of bile and fear. He couldn't let them get to him, he refused to believe. He wanted so desperately to rip off the blindfold, but he was cuffed to a giant pillar. He couldn't get his bearings, he could feel the room spinning. He needed his sight back. He gulped back another wave of fear. He couldn't let them get to him. He turned his mind elsewhere. He decided to assess his injuries, it was hard though since his entire body seemed to throb in tempo with his heart. He shifted uncomfortable and the first thing he noticed was the intense burning stinging fire in his left shoulder. _Great, it's probably dislocated. From now on I take the elevator._

His ribs felt bruised but not broken or cracked yet. _Yet, of course, I'm expecting more to happen, I just have to be a dooms day thinker right now don't I?_ He shifted again and winced. He really wished he could bring his arms forward. Why did they have to cuff him to a pillar? He decided to draw his knees to his chest in a defensive position. Why make it easy for them after all to inflict damage. He was dismayed when only one knee obeyed. He tried again but his leg remained motionless.

Had he hit it during his fall? He couldn't remember, after all the journey of bouncing down the stairs was a little fuzzy. He gave one last monumentous effort to draw his knee to him. He succeeded, sort of. His knee did reacted, bending just barely upward. The pain that shot through him suddenly was dizzying and unimaginable. It completely blindsided him and he cried out, his eyes screwed shut, the blindfold absorbing the tears that formed. He gasped for air desperately wave after wave of nausea crashing over him. He was barely aware of slumping sideways to the previous mess and adding to it with each violent heave. The room was spinning to fast to count revolutions. He was barely aware of sitting up and sliding away from the large pile of vomit again. He sat back against the pillar, panting for air as the world was sucked away from him.

--oo0oo--

Catherine rubbed the weariness from her eyes. She was exhausted but she wasn't leaving and she wasn't going to stop to rest, not until she found all the traitors, or she collapsed. The latter beginning to feel likely. Sheer determination and a sugar high from a combination of Mountain Dew and caffeinated coffee was all that kept her moving. She would crash later, when everyone was safe or locked away where they belonged. _Dead if they got what they deserved_. She was currently in the locker room, alone, snooping. She was going through the lockers, looking for anything suspicious. So far she'd found a film canister with bloody fingerprint. She lifted the print and bagged the canister, pocketing them from sight.

She finished going through the lockers. She wasn't going through them, just the ones of those whom she knew were moles. Anything more would risk to much at being discovered. She was back at the lab with Jacqui. She dropped off her knew discoveries and went to the break room. It irritated her to no end having to pretend to be hanging out leisurely, instead of working solidly in Jacqui's lab like she wanted to be, but she couldn't look like she was working, that would be suspicious. She was just hanging out in case there was a big break through finding Nick and Greg.

Catherine couldn't be happier when she did go back to the lab. She went to the computer and began her search. She was looking at financial records for the moles. Brass had quietly gotten a warrant for the information in case any one asked question, plus they'd actually be able to use the records in court. The warrant also covered phone records, which was her next search. At some point she glanced at the clock and her heart stopped. Thirty-six hours, that was how much time had passed since Nick and Greg had been taken. How on earth had so much time passed without her noticing? Frustrated at herself she tripled her efforts.

Time seemed to pass too quickly. It was several hours later, after lots of searching that she saw it. It might have gone unnoticed except that it occurred consistently, in the same pattern, for all three accounts. The fourth, added to the list after Jacqui identified the print, matched the other three. The dates may not have matched, but it was clear that the dates were a rotating pattern, and each were consistent with the other three. _Ha! A solid breakthrough! Now all I have to do is find out where these lead to, clearly they lead to more people!_

She dove at the phone records next after printing the financial records, highlighting the important details, stashing them hastily into the file. The phone records were far easier to sift through. She printed them, highlighting the most called numbers in the past month, just to start with. She would go farther back later, for the moment she was building enough evidence to get more warrants and connect the dots to the other moles.

All four were calling each other constantly, too much for something not to be going on that was suspicious. Then there was a fifth, very consistent number on all of their records. They always received calls from this one number. Several times a week it called. They never called it. Then right around the time the fiasco with Greg's kidnapping started, the calls were almost hourly to all four. A definite red flag. Her momentum building rapidly, she hunted the owner of that phone number down like a mad dog. She finished quickly and realized, she had to talk to Grissom, now.

--oo0oo--

He walked through the house bored. He'd been waiting for a long time to have some fun with his little captive down stairs. But as of yet he hadn't regained consciousness, or at least he hadn't been conscious the few times he'd gone to check. Eventually he'd dragged himself to clean up the many piles of vomit in the other room. It was disgusting. Why on earth did the guy have to make such a mess. He scrunched his nose, the smell still lingering some. He found a can of air freshener and went absolutely wild with it in the room. He stood there deep breathing until the smell was completely cleared from his nostrils. Satisfied he wandered through the house and ended up in the same room as James, who was surrounded by over three dozen empty cans of soda that had not been there that morning, and was currently downing another, a giant stack of grill cheese next to him.

"You're going to make yourself sick. What has you riled up?" he never drank and ate like this unless he was extremely stressed and concerned pushing on the edge of scared, which was a level he'd never seen in his boss before.

"I can't get a hold of Kelps. He was supposed to be recruiting Johnson, that was hours ago. It doesn't take him that long to work. Something's gone wrong." he jumped up pacing and shaking his body desperately trying to work off the caffeine and sugar.

"You need to relax, everything is probably fine. You know that they don't answer when they are in a position where it would compromise them. He probably just occupied. Give it time.

"No no no…something is wrong. Everything is going wrong. They're going to find us." he just shook his head. James refused to be dissuaded. Not surprising. Things really were going terribly wrong. Who would have thought the runt Greg would bring so much trouble upon them.

After the major raid where everyone except for him, because he'd been out on an errand, and their contacts had been discovered, when James managed to escape again, he'd suggested dropping everything. Go underground for a long time until things calmed down. They could get their guys out and rebuild, but this had become a personal obsession. It was the first time James had failed to get what he wanted from his victim. That alone was what made it personal to him. The boy had resisted everything. His own opinion was that James had gone too quickly. He pushed the kid too hard too fast, it sent him beyond functionality. He could see it towards the end that the kid wouldn't be able to answer even if he wanted to, his mind had blanked.

Finally after much discussion, James had listened to the voice of reason. Except for the matter with Archie Johnson which couldn't be ignored, they were going underground. Backing off to regroup. James had still insisted on recapturing Sanders, Stokes had been a lucky bonus, and Brown had been an irritating collateral damage. They were still nurses the bruises he'd given them. He smiled at the fact that James had gotten the worst and most of them. Another blessing. He'd come in after the fight begun. His first job had been to take care of the nurse on duty. After that he'd activated the bug for the heart monitor.

It was a brilliant little bug. All they had to do to get it in the system was embed it in an electronic referral, perfectly legitimate. It was never found because they never activated it until it was needed. It had been there for weeks before they ever needed it. All they had to do was enter the activation code and send the coding for which monitors to corrupt. What was even better was that one bug could corrupt multiple monitors at any time, they didn't have to do all the monitors at once, they could come back later to an already active bug and instruct it to corrupt another monitor. Brilliant.

He could still hear James rambling angrily so he moved along to a farther room. He didn't want to listen to the ramblings, it gave him a headache. He was joyous that his boss had finally listened to a reasonable voice. It had been a sure sign that he was making mistakes and would get them all caught soon when he'd insisted that they recapture Sanders. Yes he knew the witness, but the identity wasn't nearly as important now and they could get it other ways, though those took longer and were far less fun. His opinion was only reinforced that his boss was heading towards disaster when he'd insisted they capture Greg again personally. That was just downright stupid, but there had been no talking him out of it and it would be even more stupid to refuse aid.

He glanced up and scowled, scrunching his nose. He was in the basement with Nick again whom had done quite a lot of vomiting again. He appeared to be unconscious. Officially in a bad mood he grabbed a hose and quickly washed the mess down the obnoxiously large drain. This basement was made for easy clean up, it had to be, it was often that a mess had to be cleaned up and quickly. Next he filled a large bucket to the brim with icy water. In one quick motion he splashed it dead on over Nick. He jolted awake coughing and spluttering on the water. He barely gave him a chance to recover before he slammed his foot onto the visibly swollen knee, grinding his heel against it. Nick screamed bloody murder at the top of his lungs. After a moment the heel was gone.

"Oh I'm sorry, did that hurt?" he sneered. Nick was suddenly grateful for the blindfold as it absorbed his tears before they could ever be seen. That hurt.

"Go…away…" he panted.

"No, I don't want to cause, I'm bored so I thought I'd come down here and show you some of our hospitality." Nick gulped unwillingly. He really didn't want to know what their kind of hospitality would be.

"No thanks, I'd rather be ignored and rejected, the loner type." _right, like that will work. Ha!_

"Too bad." he never gave Nick a chance to respond as he threw the first kick to the stomach. Nick refused to make a sound but he couldn't stop himself from lurching forward as far as the cuffs would allow. He couldn't see the man's disappointed scowl at the lack of sound. He kicked again and again craving the scream he knew was in there. He'd already heard one and it had been beautiful, so much that he wanted it again. His anger reached to a boiling point as Nick remained stoic the most he ever gave was a grunt or a stifled cry that was barely audible. He was hating being on the floor with the man above him. He never had to resort to punches, only powerful kicks wherever he wanted.

Nick's world wavered in an out, reality blurring with fantasy. Everything hurt even his every breath. He wasn't sure how long the man had been here, he'd nicknamed him Psycho at some point. He would always beat him, the world melting away to blackness only to be jolted awake with the icy bucket of water and it would begin again. He didn't know whether this was still the first beating or several. He wasn't sure. He didn't think anyone could continue at this pace for so long. He guessed that more time passed then he truly felt between the blackness and the icy bucket of water. Still guessing he thought that the buckets of water signified the beginning and the vicious heel smashing into his already badly brutalized knee was the end. He was always able to hold in his reactions, until it got to the knee, then he could never even attempt to stifle the scream.

He remembered the first segment, when the water had first been splashed over him, to the second time Psycho had ground his heel into his knee angrily defeated at not getting a sound out of him after the first attack to the knee. It gave Nick a morbid satisfaction that Psycho had to resort to the worst thing possible to get a sound out of him. The words that had been whispered menacingly into his ear echoed through his mind every waking moment he had.

That was just a little taste of what we do. I thought you should know, we've gone underground, no one will find you. I hope you enjoyed, you'll be enduring for years to come, I promise you that. Little Gregory took the easy way out, he took the quick death, but not you, you'll endure this for years to come, I guarantee I won't let you die any time soon.

Another bucket of water splashed over him. Psycho was back. He coughed and choked on the icy water. He didn't register the individual kicks, only the over all consuming pain. He didn't realize that he was screaming, holding nothing back, everything sounded so distant and faint. He was out of body, his only link to reality was the pain he was drowning in. The pain was never ending, it was so long since the bucket of water had come, and Psycho was still going. He couldn't form a coherent thought, though he subconsciously wondered how long he'd been here and how much longer the beating would last. He could feel the pull of oblivion returning and he happily let it have him. Then there was the bucket of water. It'd felt like less then a second had passed by. It was when Psycho spoke to him that he realized that it'd been less than five minutes.

"No sleeping, not this time, you get to stay awake for a while and think about the situation you're in and how long it's gonna last." he left laughing. Nick sat there, sagging miserably against the cuffs. He couldn't feel the sticky warm blood seeping down his hands, dripping unseen to the floor. The world waved in and out around him. Whenever he felt he would be sucked into unconsciousness the water would splash over him again.

Despair overwhelmed him. It felt like forever since his last, happy memory at the hospital. He never had remembered what happened. He thought about what Psycho had said about Greg and his quick death. He felt a morbid twinge of jealousy as he realized. Greg was lucky.

**A/N: I warned you, angsty. Anyways, I'm probably going to connect the dots in the next chapter! Hold on just a little longer. Oh and for all who need reassurance over Greg, go back and reread the chapter in which I killed him. I left a clue that points to whether I killed him or not. Private Message me when you think you found it, I'll tell you whether you're right! Happy hunting! MWUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!**


	27. Chapter 27

**A/N: Here it is, another chapter. The pieces of the puzzle coming together, the dots beginning to connect. Next chapter is the chapter you've all been waiting for! Let me know what you think!**

Chapter 27

Brass had come the moment he'd gotten the phone call. Hearing Grissom like that he knew something was wrong. Gil was never short and snappy, he hadn't even waited for a response. Clearly something had happened, again. He couldn't help but wonder how long they could last with things going on like this. He knew Grissom was very close to his breaking point and everyone else was incapacitated and morphine always helped hold off the breaking points. Nick and Greg were more of a concern. They were missing, all emotional support except for each other gone, and even that wasn't guaranteed. This was Greg's second go around, and from the tape he'd seen, Greg was going to need all the emotional support he could get, Nick too now that he was in the same situation.

When he got to Archie's room he was surprised to find two security guards stationed outside the door. He questioned them as to why and found out about the dead body but couldn't find out who it was. He was dismayed to get this information _before_ the guards even thought to ask who he was, but he kept silent as one of them escorted him to another room and one remained behind. The guard didn't even ask to be dismissed before leaving when they got to the new room but Brass again remained silent. He let himself into the room with a practiced silence. Grissom hadn't heard him. Brass noticed how his hand rested on his gun at the ready and how, at the tiniest shift or sound, no matter how faint, that Archie made, he would tense badly. Archie was littered with new bruises all over his chest and stomach, his ribs clearly taped up, a black eye and lots of bruising near his cheek bone and jaw, in a drug induced sleep most likely.

"So are you going to tell me what happened, or why you're so jumpy?" Gil whirled around surprised, nearly drawing his gun. He blushed embarrassed when he saw it was Brass, another unusual thing for him.

"Oh, uh hi." he reholstered his gun, letting go of it, not having been conscious that he was holding it at all. _Man they have me on edge. How can they throw me so off balance. I need to get it under control._

"So what happened."

"I got the strangest conversation when I called him to see how he was doing. At first I thought it was a product of the morphine, but it had this edge to it."

"What kind of edge is that?"

"The scared one. So I decided to come and check on him in person."

"Looks like that was a good thing."

"Definitely. I showed up to find Kelps holding Archie against a wall choking him, clearly having beaten him, holding a gun to his head."

"How close was it?"

"Pulling the trigger close." Brass nodded, very glad that Grissom had arrived when he did.

"Kelps huh. Well that's not good. We've got moles in my branch too."

"Hoping that they would only be on the geek side of everything?"

"Your group doesn't have to put their lives in the officer next to you or behind you on a day to day basis, yeah you occasionally get a stupid suspect that sticks around or comes back, but not often." Grissom nodded.

"This will probably start a witch hunt, especially when the media gets wind of this." Brass hated the media sometimes, most of the time.

"Yeah well let's just hope that doesn't happen for a while."

"So you think you can find three of your gunslingers that you don't doubt now to protect these geeks of mine. The security here has proven itself inept."

"I figured when they told me about Kelps body, though not who it was at the time, before finding out who I was first."

"Figures, they're probably selling tickets to see his body already."

"Yeah I know a few that despite recent events I still trust. I'll go make a few quick calls. Is he going to be okay?"

"Physically yes, but he was hysterical when I got to him." Brass could see the fear and guilt on Gil's face. He was at the end of his rope to be showing emotions so easily, for people that knew him at least, to a stranger he would look perfectly calm. He was the polar opposite right now.

"Don't worry Gil, they may be geeks, but you've got a tough bunch there, they will pull through this, it may take time, but they'll pull through, all of them."

"I hope so Jim, I really hope so."

--oo0oo--

Nick was floating. After a while Psycho had given up with the water splashing every time he drifted towards unconsciousness a while ago. He was glad for the small mercy. He was shivering, freezing cold. Or he was in shock, he really didn't care right now. He knew they wouldn't drive him to the edge like they had Greg. They would make him last, savoring his pain. This was just a miserable reprieve, one that wouldn't last long and didn't help any. He just sat there, wallowing in pain, and floated. Every now and then he would vomit, but he'd run out of stomach contents a while ago and simply dry heaved, drifting in an out of consciousness, glad to be ignored. It didn't last long, it never did.

He jolted at another bucket of icy water, coughing and spluttering yet again as he choked on the water gone in his mouth and nose. He wanted his sight back. He could prepare for those if he could only see. He never realized how crippling it could be to lose your sight. His mind randomly fantasized going about day to day activities without the luxury of sight. He jumped, his thought intruded when he was suddenly being spoken to.

That's wrong, Psycho doesn't talk to me, only beats me. This isn't Psycho. Who is it? He had to listen close, the words jumbled but still discernable, barely. _James, it's James in here. Why is he here instead of Psycho?_ He hadn't even realized he had been required to answer something until a foot was suddenly slamming against his hand already broken. He cried out, drowning out the sound of bones crunching together brokenly. It cut through the fog real quick.

He had to listen close, the words jumbled but still discernable, barely. He hadn't even realized he had been required to answer something until a foot was suddenly slamming against his hand already broken. He cried out, drowning out the sound of bones crunching together brokenly. It cut through the fog real quick. 

"I'll ask you again, how much do you want to go through?"

"Before what?" he rasped, his voice shaking from pain. _Oh, I recognize that foot._ He thought in hysterical excitement._ Psycho's behind me. They're both here. Where's the Jaws music? These guys are sharks, worse than that._

"Before you realize it's in your best interest to cooperate. We can make this much easier for you if you just tell us what we want. Earn yourself a little mercy. Your sight back perhaps?" Nick nearly salivated at the offer of his sight again.

"What was it you wanted to know again?" he asked his mind not cooperating, forgetting the true severity of his situation and who he was truly with right now. It was all wiped away by the offer of mercy and sight as he sagged in pain, cuffed to the pillar.

"It's simple, nothing hard, no consequence to you. We just want to know who the witness is?" his heart sank. He couldn't tell them that.

"I don't know who they are." a barrage of kicks. The world is floating.

"I'll ask you again. What's the name?" again he said no. They went on like that for a long time, the question asked, a lie told as an answer, a beating for reward. He had no idea how long this went on. He didn't care how long, he just wanted them to stop. To stop the pain, he wanted the pain to stop. He heard the question again, the words were garbled and broken, but he knew the question. He remained silent. The foot returned, slamming against his battered hand and ground it, hard, against the pillar. He couldn't take it.

"IDON'TKNOW IDON'TKNOW IDON'TKNOW" he blurted desperately.

"I. DON'T. BELIEVE. YOU." he never had a chance to respond. Psycho and James double teamed him, one grinding his hand into the pillar, the other standing and twisting on his knee. He screamed the world blinking in and out of consciousness rapidly, until he was hoarse. He had to do something. He blurted the first thing that came to mind.

"ECKLIE KNOWS THE WITNESS!!!" They stopped. He panted and gasped for air desperately. _If they really are underground than Ecklie is safe, if not, I just might be found when they try to get him. I hope._

"What did you say?" he had a peculiar sound to his voice and a peculiar look though Nick couldn't see it. He didn't care, they had stopped, that was all he cared about as he sat there sobbing in pain. He was too tired and hurt to care that they were seeing him cry.

"I said that….Ecklie…knows the name…of the witness…"

"Why would he know and not you, he's not on your team?" James probed.

"Higher on the food chain... The witness wouldn't… give their name until… they were in protective custody…. Greg only knows…knew… because… he found them."

"Alright, I'll accept that, for the moment." he could hear someone walking away. Only one set, but he didn't realize that in his haze until he was being spoken to again.

"Next time, tell us the first time." it was a malicious whisper that he could barely discern. The next thing he knew a hand had grabbed a fistful of his hair and slammed his head back against the pillar mightily. He gladly let oblivion take him again.

--oo0oo--

Grissom drove angrily towards the lab. He'd waited until Brass' three guys arrived at the hospital. Lockwood was in charge of Archie, Hopkins had Sara, and Vega had Warrick. He'd had to personally check on Sara and Warrick before he could make himself leave. He didn't want to admit how much finding Archie the way he had, had shaken him. This was twice now the hospital had proven to be falsely called a safe place. It seemed they weren't safe anywhere right now. He briefly wondered how long it would be before they decided to pick him off, then he pushed it away. He didn't care as long as they left his team alone.

He swerved into the parking lot madly. He was still beyond fuming over what had happened at the hospital, and the security staff had only made things worse. He had demanded a new primary doctor for all of his team. The original doctor had been ruffled which led to outrage, but he stood his ground until he got an excellent doctor, with far better manors, competency, and bed side manor. He'd left, still angry, but feeling confidant that his team was finally in good hands.

He walked through the halls, glad that anyone that saw him coming stepped well back. He was on a dangerous edge and anyone that so much as breathed wrong around him would suffer the consequences, they could all see it. He was on his way to find Catherine. He'd found a message on his phone that she'd found something and to come as soon as he got the chance. Later, everyone that had been present when it happened, would be willing to swear under lawful oath that the snap had been audible, and echoed throughout the lab. It happened when Gil Grissom was walking past Ecklie's office, stopping dead in his tracks, overhearing the conversation.

"It's your own fault that we lost Sanders. How was it your fault, simple, you were supposed to be checking those tapes before we sent them to Grissom for anything incriminating….. Yeah, well now because of your incompetence we have to clean up your mess."

"Yeah Kelps is with him now. Probably have to kill him too, not that he doesn't deserve it little brat with his grand idea of justice over money….No, didn't you listen, they've gone underground, waiting till things cool off. Besides, they've got Stokes and Sanders, they'll be able to entertain themselves for years to come with those two. Yeah well from now on you clean up your own mess." with that Ecklie hung up the phone, whirling to leave, and was face to face with Grissom. The silence was deadly. Then he snapped.

"YOU BASTARD!" the first punch was thrown and Ecklie never recovered. Grissom yelling and screaming a whole litany of curses and insults at Ecklie. He just kept on pounding on him without remorse or hesitation, his rage consuming him, manifesting and boiling over and he just let it go. He used it to fuel his onslaught, not caring about how much damage he caused to Ecklie, it made him happy to do this. The testament to how far he'd been pushed. Suddenly hands were gripping him, pulling him back from his deserving victim. He fought to break free of them but while some were successfully knocked away, the ones that remained tightened severely. He continued to yell as he was slowly dragged away.

"THEY DIDN'T DESERVE THAT! I HOPE YOU ROT! YOU'RE KILLING THEM ALL FOR MONEY! YOU BASTARD!! YOU WOULD HAVE KILLED ARCHIE IF I HADN'T COME ALONG! WHERE ARE THEY! WHERE ARE YOU HIDING THEM!"

Everyone stared, terrified and pale faced. The day Gil Grissom attacked someone out of anger, or any other emotion, was the day the sky fell. Brass and three other officers were finally able to drag Grissom into another room, empty of everything. They locked him in it alone listening to the continued litany of rage, a guard posted at the door. He was wasn't leaving until he had it under control again. Ecklie, meanwhile had crawled pitifully behind his desk to nurse his injuries.

--oo0oo--

Archie could feel his head buzzing, the room spinning. His whole body throbbed to his heart beat. He couldn't understand, his whole body shouldn't be hurting like this, not from two shots to the chest. He was forgetting something. Something was very different. He tried to clear his foggy mind. He saw flashes, something gold glinting in light, the barrel of a gun with silencer, a man's face, a horrible face. And suddenly everything came back to him. He bolted upright, pain lancing through him unbearably, crying out. He fell back, wrapping one arm around his waist, the other pushing against the bed as he desperately tried to crawl backwards.

"Hey, take it easy there Archie." his eyes flew open terrified, the guy was still here.

"No, get away, don't please. I won't work for you." he blurted rapidly. The world was blurry and confused.

"It's okay, you don't have to work for me, you just have to relax." he could feel a hand restraining him, holding him still and the panic doubled.

"No please don't shoot me, just go away, just go away." he struggled against the firm hand, gasping at the pain.

"Archie, I'm not going to shoot you."

"Please go away, just go away. Leave me alone. I won't tell anyone. Please, just leave me alone."

"Archie, I'm not leaving. Grissom told me to stay here and protect you and that's what I'm going to do." he calmed down enough that Lockwood released his grip, the statement cutting through his fog filled mind. He squinted at him, blinking to clear his vision before he recognized who it was.

"Oh" he whispered.

"See, not going to hurt you." Archie watched him, still feeling edgy. He jumped when the door opened and a nurse he didn't recognize walked in.

"I'm glad to see you awake Mr. Johnson." he eyed her nervously, unconsciously edging a little closer to Lockwood. "Can you tell me how you're feeling? How's the pain." he hesitated a moment.

"Ummm…it's like…an eight." he didn't like admitting how much pain it was, he already felt weak.

"Alright, I'll get you something for that in a moment." she continued to ask him questions quickly and jot down things on his chart and before long had injected something into his iv. The pain eased quickly and he slipped into a pain free, almost relaxed sleep.

--oo0oo--

Grissom paced like a caged animal. He almost had control of his emotions, but not enough that he could stop himself from pacing. It hadn't taken long for Ecklie to be arrested after Catherine showed Brass what she had. He'd shut down the moment he stepped into the interrogation room. Everyone was surprised that he hadn't lawyered up yet. Not that anyone was complaining. Most of the office was in a state of shock as the incriminated people were cuffed and escorted to their own rooms. It was kept quiet from Ecklie that they already had the moles, just in case he named someone they'd missed.

Brass was circling him like a predator, barraging him with question after question. So far Ecklie wasn't budging, but they could all see it, just a little bit longer and he'd let something slip, it was almost time. Catherine watched Gil pacing back and forth concerned. He was barely keeping his emotions in check. Never in her life had she ever believed she would see Grissom attack someone like that. It wasn't in the name of self defense, it was a blind rage. Not that it hadn't been delivered on a more deserving person. Ecklie jumped when his phone, hooked onto a recording machine, rang shrilly. Brass leaned forward menacingly.

"You should probably answer that, and mind what you say." he hesitated but did answer the phone.

"Ecklie"

"I don't know what inspired you, but I don't tolerate traitors."

"What?"

"You better hope I never find you, or you'll discover that Sanders had it easy." with that the call ended, Ecklie pale as a sheet. And that was all it took. He cracked like a walnut in a nutcracker. In minutes, they knew exactly where Nick and Greg were being held.


	28. Chapter 28

**A/N: Here it is! The rescue! This is a loong and angsty chapter! I worked very hard on it so tell me how much you love me in many reviews!**

Chapter 28

Grissom willed the cars to go faster with everything he had. His leg was bouncing uncontrollably, eager to arrive. It would be over soon. All they had to do was rescue Greg and Nick and then it would all be over. The car could never go fast enough for him. It would never be fast enough, getting the isolated house that held Nick and Greg prisoner. His greatest fear was to come to late. They had to be alive, he didn't know what he would do if he didn't find them alive. That would be his ultimate failure in a long line of failings during this case. It would be one he could never face.

He knew that Brass was throwing him concerned glances. They both knew he shouldn't be coming on this raid, but neither had brought up the subject. They both knew it would kill him to stay behind this time. Emotionally involved he was, but he was coming, he had to be there, for Nick, for Greg. It was the least that he could do for them now. The money management had been clever. Fifteen grand every three weeks, delivered in the form of three equal amount checks from three other moles on a rotating basis. You double cross someone and they can keep the portion you were getting. Therefore, no one even thought of double crossing someone. The weakness of the system was that if you found one rat, and you dug deep enough, you could connect them all.

Catherine had done a superb job. After he'd calmed down from his outburst she'd shown him what she found. It had been excellent. It was more than enough to arrest them and get plenty of warrants to dig so much deeper. Much to her dismay he'd given the rest of the task to another CSI, insisting she go home to rest. It had resulted in a much heated argument. The compromise was that she could stay during the interrogations, then she would go home and not come back to work until her medical leave was over. She had grudgingly agreed. He understood her reluctance to give over control of the case to someone else. It had become an extremely personal case for all of them. They all wanted to see it to the finish line personally, but that couldn't happen. Everyone except Grissom was incapacitated, on medical leave, and Gil had proven that he was far too emotionally invested to continue working the case.

He remembered Catherine's actions as each of the traitors was brought out of the interrogation rooms, one by one, on their way to booking. He wished he had joined her, but he'd taken his small reward with Ecklie and knew he should push his luck. Detective Cooper had been brought out first. They didn't know him personally, but that didn't stop Catherine. She stood right in front of him, and issued the world's hardest open handed slap that it reverberated off the walls. The officers escorting Cooper did nothing to stop her. If any of the traitors tried to claim assault, it'd been the unspoken agreement to deny everything. One by one as they came out, she slapped them all. Hodges, Bobby Dawson, Cooper, Ecklie, and Simpson, they all got slapped. Only Kelps escaped a slap, because he was already dead.

He jerked up, sitting as straight and tall as he could in anticipation when he could finally see the house. His hand already gripping the gun. He was urging the car to go faster mentally again. He could never get there fast enough. He prayed that he would find them, alive, that they would both be found alive. It was his only wish. _Just let them be alive, just let them be alive, just let them be alive._ It was his mental mantra, a link to sanity and reality. A goal to be reached that allowed him to remain in control of his emotions. The car barely skidded to a stop before he was out and running, the officers barely staying ahead of him. He was a man on a mission, protocol be hanged, he would go where he wished.

The house was very similar to the one in Frisco, lacking a second story. He remembered that they had found Greg in the basement and headed in that direction, found floor plan was the same. Three officers managed to slip ahead of him on the way down the stairs to his dissatisfaction, but they were moving fast enough for him to compromise. They filed into the basement, a blast of cold air typical for basements, assaulting them. They found someone cuffed to a pillar near the center of the room and guessing by what they could see it was Nick. James was crouching in front of him over Nick's legs, dragging a wicked knife down his chest, drawing blood. He had a solid hand gripping a handful of Nick's hair holding his head up.

"LVPD BACK AWAY FROM HIM!" he whipped around chucking the knife at them. It plunged into the officer standing next to Grissom up, to the hilt with momentum. He cried out, falling backwards, dropping the gun. The officer behind caught him as he fell, quickly lowering him to the floor and worked to slow the bleeding. The officer still standing fired off a shot as James bolted to the wall, satisfied when it hit his shoulder. He crashed into the wall which did a one eighty spin letting him into a secret passage. They heard a thunk and when the officer tried to follow the wall wouldn't move. He was radioing a warning to the other officers but Grissom wasn't listening, his world was focused on Nick. He rushed to kneel next to him gently removing the blindfold.

He appeared to be unconscious, or very close to it. His hair was matted with blood, massive goose eggs visible past the hair. He had a gash over his black eye that was caked with dried blood down the side of his black and blue face. His nose had clearly been broken, dried blood caked over his mouth and chin. The officer gave him baby wipes from where he didn't know, but he made short work of wiping away all the blood. His skin was icy cold and he breathed with a shuddering rasp that was far too shallow. The whole front of his shirt was ripped up and soaked with blood.

Fearful of how much he could be bleeding he finished splitting the shirt in half. He was covered in blood, five very deep slashes across his chest and stomach all oozing blood, some slowly, some not. Every inch of him was either black, blue, or purple, and swollen massively. He shivered violently, getting worse as time went by. Grissom lifted his head to look into his eyes.

"Nick? Nick? Talk to me?" he moaned his eyes fluttering open for a moment than closing again.

"Nicky, come on Nicky, wake up. I need you to wake up." he pleaded. He was so happy when those beautiful browns returned, struggling weakly to stay open. His pupils were severely uneven and hardly responded to the change of light at all. He looked around sluggishly a look of confusion, with glassy eyes.

"Griss?" it was barely a whisper. He wanted to cry at the look of hopeless defeat in his friend's eyes.

"That's right. I'm right here Nicky. It over, it's all over, you're safe." Grissom wasn't sure he'd understood what he said. He slumped against him when the officer finished uncuffing his wrists, limply. He moaned, pain coursing through him from the small movement. It scared him when he saw how heavily Nick's wrists were bleeding. The cuffs had replicated slit wrists, though not quite as bad. He looked and saw that the two officers had a small med kit and the knife had wads of pressure bandages around it, the bleeding slowed tremendously.

"Toss those over quick!" He grabbed a thick roll of gauze and wrapped Nick's wrists with plenty of pressure, layer after layer on the wrists. the blood was soaking through them quickly so he just kept adding layers and pressure, desperate for the red patch to stop growing. Eventually he succeed to slow it enough that he didn't think Nick would bleed out. He was then putting pressure on the gashes on his chest which were the next to be bleeding heaviest. He moaned weakly, struggling to sit up, get away from the painful pressure.

" 'm sorry…sorry…'m sorry…" he mumbled deliriously.

"Why Nicky, you don't have to be sorry, this isn't your fault." Grissom maintain eye contact with a very shocky Nick.

"c-couldn't p-p-protect G-Greg, killed him….they killed him…couldn't protect him…'m sorry…'m sorry…" he rambled incoherently his focus diminishing rapidly. Gil swallowed back a painful lump, tears burning at the corner of his eyes. Greg dead. He'd come too late, he'd failed again. Nick said they'd killed Greg. _Please just let him be delirious. _He panicked as Nick drifted rapidly towards unconsciousness, his mumblings dying away.

"Nicky, stay with me. I need you to stay awake Nicky." his eyes popped open again sluggishly, settling to the smallest slits. He swallowed convulsively his mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton.

"Wa…wa-water." it was so hard to speak. So tired. Grissom glanced around, spotting an unopened water bottle. He hated the two seconds he wasn't by Nick's side when he grabbed the bottle.

"You probably shouldn't give him water right now." someone suggested meekly. Grissom didn't look to see who.

"I'll only give him enough to wet his mouth." no one said anything to him after that. He was shifting Nick, trying to lean him up against his chest so he would choke when he'd barely brushed against his shoulder when Nick cried out piteously, tears forming ready to fall. Grissom nearly had a heart attack. He grabbed a small pair of scissors out of the med pack and cut away the rest of the shirt. To his horror, Nick's shoulder was misshapen it was so swollen and completely black, the occasional highlight of blue or purple. He switched sides and very cautiously sat Nick up, placing his equally misshapen, nearly crushed hand to rest on his stomach. He moaned and whimpered at the smallest of movements.

He pressed the rim of the bottle to Nick's lips and let a very small amount slosh into his mouth. His reaction was delayed. He tried to swallow but choked on the water, though was hardly anything for him to actually choke on. Grissom started to put the bottle down and not give him more but was stopped.

"More….please…" he probably shouldn't have, but he couldn't have refused no matter what common sense demanded. His heart had melted. What could it hurt to give him a little more? He gave him a little bit more than last time and he seemed to have actually swallowed some successfully before he choked again, coughing weakly. His head lolled against Grissom's chest, losing his grip on consciousness again, his breathing reaching another level of shallow and unsteady.

"Nicky, stay wake. You have to stay awake Nicky."

" 'm s'cold, tired…hurts…so tired…" he was drifted and slurring badly. Grissom realized that his clothes were colder than Nick, not by much, and completely soaked through.

"It's okay Nicky, we'll get you warmed up in no time and make the pain go away."

" s'good" he whispered semi-conscious. He realized what had felt like hours sitting Nick had only been about ten minutes at the most when Brass' voice crackled over the radio.

"Grissom, your needed…it's Sanders." that was all that was said. His heart dropped to his stomach. Probably being called to a dead body according to Nick. He didn't want to leave him. Not in his state, but he had to. He gently lowered him to the floor, pained by his moans of pain. He was about to stand when Nick grabbed his wrist weakly with his uninjured hand, barely able to keep a grip.

"Don't"

"I have to Nick, I'll be back very soon." he wasn't convinced.

"don' go, can't lose Greg and you, can' let you die too…" he mumbled weakly losing his grip on Gil's wrist. He leaned close so Nick could see and hear him.

"I won't die I promise, but I have to go, just for a minute and I'll be right back. I promise." he stood quickly headed for the door but he still heard Nick's last rebuttal.

"Nooo.." he moaned, and then Gil was gone. Like everyone else he cared about.

--oo0oo--

Jim Brass spearheaded the group of officers that hadn't scurried to catch up with Grissom. He's smiled mentally at Gil's sudden disregard for common protocol. Anything other time he would lecture him, and any other CSI that burst from room to room like that before it was cleared by his officers, but not today, today he let Grissom's fervor work for him. He methodically and rapidly went from room to room clearing it without a sign of resistance so far. He wasn't overly surprised since they had suspicion that there were only two suspects still loose. James and one other man they didn't know the identity of. He'd heard a shot fired somewhere else in the house and silently hoped that the gun hadn't been aimed at any of his guys. Whether they be part of the raid or hostage. He charged into another room and found what he wanted.

Greg was in the room, pinned to the wall by a man they didn't recognize, a vicious grip around his neck cutting off all his air. He held onto the wrist with one hand and movements in the shoulder told that his other hand was doing something but Brass couldn't see what. His eyes were screwed shut tightly as he gasped for air.

"LVPD, LET GO OF HIM AND STEP WELL AWAY!" he shouted. Greg's eyes snapped open, without recognition, but the man didn't react. Brass was about to fire off a shot when there was a sudden movement by Greg followed by three successive shots. The man dropped onto his back three closely grouped gun shot wounds to the heart, clearly dead. Greg dropped to his knees the gun still smoking in his hand. He crawled away rapidly swaying as he went, never letting go of the gun. Brass started towards him. He crawled away faster.

"GET AWAY FROM ME!" Greg screamed. He stopped, putting his hands up to show them empty and of no harm.

"Easy Sanders, you don't need to shoot me." he took a cautious step forward slowly. Greg backed farther away from him.

"STAY AWAY!" Greg was clearly freaked out of rationality.

"Just relax Sanders, it just me, Jim Brass, you're safe now." he took a tentative couple of towards him again.

"GET BACK! STAY WAY STAY AWAY STAY AWAY!" he stopped when he saw the gun, now pointed at him. He called Grissom, and backed out of the room, though still able to see Sanders.

--oo0oo--

My chest was pounding. I couldn't get enough air. I never could get enough air any more. I felt like I was drowning. A fish out of water. My head was spinning, everything was spinning. My world was dark smudges of color that moved and swam about indefinably. I can't tell what is what. Ever since my attempted escape, which I can't remember how it ended or what actually happened, I've been here, lying motionless. They keep coming back at times, shoving something in my mouth and making me swallow. I'm too tired to resist. I don't care anymore. I'm too tired. I don't even know what they are, they can't be all that bad, I'm not in pain. Yes, I have this weird, cold dull ache, but that's not so bad.

I never heard the door open. I never do. I didn't know I wasn't alone until I was moving. I'm too disoriented to tell how. I numbly feel a hand, it's around my throat, and squeezing, hard. The world starts to come back to me. I hadn't realized my eyes had been closed until I opened them to find an unbearably bright world that was strangely blurred. I could see the outline of the man gripping my neck. I think he whispered something into my ear, I couldn't really hear him above the roaring in my ears. I think he said something about having a little fun with me, before giving me my next dose. Whatever that means. My mind blanks after that, I don't remember what happened or if anything happened.

I was aware of something being shoved in my mouth again, I swallowed out of habit without struggle. My mouth felt rough and dry to me and I realize I don't remember ever drinking any water. I can feel the pills going down. Then the grip around my neck is tightening vastly. I can't breathe, I can't get enough air. I can't get any at all. I'm barely aware that I'm pushing weakly at his wrist, I don't know what else to do. I try to move my other hand to do something, it's moving, I just don't know what it's doing. Oh well, doesn't really matter, so long as it's doing something that helps. Then I hear something, it's like a record being scratched with the needle while it's still hooked up to the speakers, except it's in a far deeper tone.

I open my eyes again having not realized they'd closed again, I seen another outline of a person. I don't recognize them. I'm not even sure if it really is a person or if they are really there. The man holding me against the wall didn't react. Another hallucination I think. I've been having a lot of those lately, I wonder why. Suddenly my hand hit something. I never consciously recognized what it was, but I clearly knew what to do. I raised my hand and fired three shots barely aware, not truly knowing what I was doing. I dropped suddenly, landing hard and the pain returned. Why did it have to return? The figure is coming at me. I back away panicked. I don't hear myself yell at it. I don't know who it is and I don't want them anywhere near me. I just want to go home. To be somewhere safe. But I still have the gun, the gun is my only safety now.

I continue to back away, yelling at the person to stay back as they continue to try and get me. My head is pounding so hard. I can breathe, but I can't get enough air. I'm drowning, I'm sure of it. I can feel the world trying to pull me under. I'm just trying to keep my head above water. I try to take a long, deep breath but I feel like I'm suffocating so long when I do that so I revert back to the fast, shallow breaths. I still feel like I'm suffocating, but not so bad. I can feel my very blood surging through my veins, the friction hurts so bad. My heart is pounding, so hard, so fast. Too hard, too fast. It hurts, I just want it all to stop. I see someone else come into the room. There's three of him, one acting normally, but the other two slingshot right through him swiftly, side to side. It scares me and I back into a corner, the cool wall pressed against my hot back. I yell at it to stay away. It stops but it doesn't leave.

I screw my eyes shot and open them again, hoping he's gone, all of him. But instead the other two slingshot front to back through him, right towards me. Frightened when they come close to me I can't help but flinch away. There's no where for me to go. I'm cornered. I have to get away. I have to go home. I don't know why but I'm suddenly laughing hysterically. I can't find anything funny, or even happy, but I'm laughing. Then I'm sobbing, sobbing so hard, and I can't stop. I feel myself pulled under, truly drowning and I can't get up. I don't see the person come closer. I don't feel the gun taken from my numb hand, or the arm wrap around me. The talked to me but I couldn't hear them. Everything hurt, I was so tired. I needed air, I needed more air. I had to get back to the surface, where everything wasn't so heavy, where I could breathe again.

Then four people appeared. The walked straight through the wall and it terrified him, but he couldn't move. Three people came first, the person in the middle was James. He was struggling and screaming. A fourth came, holding their arm with was covered in a bright red. But all his focus was on James, yelling at him. The words echoed, fully understood in his mind. He had to get away, he wasn't safe. Nowhere was safe. He had to go home, he just wanted to go home. He shrank away from James, right into something warm. Not the wall. He didn't know what it was. He sobbed harder as James was led away. He was so afraid. He just wanted to go home. To be safe again. Then James was gone, his horrible voice fading in my ears. It could never go fast enough. I just sat there, curled into myself, making myself as small as I could, longing for home.

I don't know why but I suddenly had to know what was against me that was so warm. I opened my eyes, which had again closed without my knowing, and I found that person that had the two slingshot through him. He was right up against me, and arm around me. I panicked, terrified of this man I didn't know, probably here to hurt my, just like all the others. I screamed and pulled away to quick for them to react. I quickly found another corner. How had they gotten so close without me noticing?

I'm struggling to escape. I have to escape. I try to stand. It's so hard. I'm so heavy, everything is heavy. I can barely move, but I have to. I have to get away. My heart is pound harder and faster, if that's even possible. My world is graying in and out. They're trying to get me again. The gun, where did I put the gun? I have to get away. I need to breathe. I have to get to the surface. I'm drowning. The world is fading. I'm standing now, though I'm not sure how I managed. The wall is all that's holding me up. I have to breathe. I have to get to the surface. I'm drowning.

--oo0oo--

Grissom was quick to find Jim, standing warily outside the door of a room. Watching something, or someone inside like a hawk. He wondered why he was needed. Brass sees him coming and signals for him to approach quietly. He steps a little ways away from the door. He doesn't have his gun out, though his hand does rest upon it. Keeping his voice quiet they talk.

"What is it?"

"Sanders is in there. He won't let anyone near him." Grissom's heart leapt.

"He's alive?"

"You doubted?"

"Nick said they'd killed him." Brass nodded.

"How is Nick?"

"Not good." Grissom approached the door enough to see Greg, barely, he could see half of him.

"Be careful, he got a hold of a gun and is pointing it at everyone that gets too close." Grissom nodded and walked slowly into the room. Greg is sitting in a corner at the farthest wall. He's curled as small as he can get. He's breathing extremely fast and shallow. The sheen of sweat is easy to see. He can see him shaking but his grip on the gun never wavering. His eyes are closed. He takes several fast steps closer at the opportunity. Greg opens his eyes and he stops.

"GET AWAY FROMTH ME!" he's slurring badly, his voice shaking.

"It's okay Greg. I'm not going to hurt you. It's okay." he moves forward a step that can hardly be called a step at all.

"STAYSTH AWAY!" he holds his empty hands up where Greg can see them. Greg is trying to crawl away from him but he's in a corner. He closes his eyes tightly for a moment. Gil moves forward again until Greg opens his eyes again. He flinches back repeatedly as if he were being hit.

"Greg, I need you to calm down okay. No one is going to hurt you but we need you to calm down."

"STAY WAY STAY WAY STAY WAY!" he was breathing faster now.

"Greg, we just want to take you home. You want to go home?" he took a step forward. Greg was pointing the gun at him.

"GET AWAY!" he shrank smaller, his head lolling slightly. Suddenly he was laughing hysterically which quickly switched into uncontrollable sobs. Grissom was afraid for Greg. There was more than just frightened hysterics going on here. He curled, his head on his knees, no longer watching Grissom as he sobbed. Gil took the opportunity and approached Greg without any further resistance. Greg never noticed that he took the gun.

Brass and three officers slipped into the room quietly, James' whereabouts still unknown. Grissom had an arm wrapped around Greg's shoulders, a hand on his head trying to sooth him as he sobbed. He seemed to be oblivious to Grissom's presence. He had his arms pulled in protectively around his waist. They waited silently for the paramedics when suddenly a section of the wall rotated quickly, slamming into one of the officers, dragging him into the secret passage. On the opposite side James appeared, pausing when he saw the crowd. The pause was long enough, the wall hitting him as it continued to rotated and sucked him back into the passage as well.

The two officers gaped for a few seconds then charged through the wall as well. They could hear scuffling on the other side of the wall. Grissom didn't realize that he was holding Greg tighter to him fearfully and Greg was oblivious to everything. There was a moment of silence and then the wall rotated again, slowly this time and remained open. Two agents came out with James cuffed between them, the third agent that had been hit by the way following behind a nasty knot appearing above his eye and large bloody gash running the length of his forearm, grumbling. James spotted Greg and the tirade began.

"YOU LITTLE RAT! IF IT'S THE LAST THING I DO I'LL MAKE SURE YOU PAY! YOU'LL REGRET EVER BEING BORN! BY THE TIME I'M THROUGH WITH YOU YOU'LL WISH YOU'D NEVER BEEN BORN!"

That was as far as he got before Brass delivered a beautiful round house punch to his jaw, shutting him up. James was stunned long enough for them to get him out of the room before he began again. Greg trembled, sobbing harder, whimpering, as he coward against Grissom, pushing against him desperately, trying to get away, and began to rock back and forth, his hands clamped over his ears. It was the first he'd reacted to anything around him since Grissom had taken the gun from him.

After a moment or two when James was finally too far to be heard, Greg poked his head up shakily as if to check if he was still safe. For the first time he noticed Grissom's presence. He jolted back with a scream, crawling away too fast for Grissom to stop him. Instantly he was in the corner across from him, struggling to stand. Gil was up in an instant following after him. He was shaking uncontrollably held up by the wall, watching Griss like a dangerous predator. He slurred something, barely a whisper, but it was entirely incoherent. Grissom panicked when his eyes rolled back and he pitched forward limply, unconscious.

He caught him and gently lowered him back to the floor, lying him on his back. The first thing he did was check his pulse. It was unimaginably fast, too fast to count, weak, and erratic. His breathing was just as fast, shallow, and unsteady. He was covered in sweat. Gil peeled back his eyelids to find his pupils like saucers, expanded to their largest size and glassy. He'd known that something else was going on, now he knew.

"He's been drugged. Where are those paramedics." the last question was snapped impatiently. As if on command they appeared, shoving him out of their way. Greg remained unresponsive to everything. He was quickly loaded on to a gurney, strapped down gently and wheeled out. It was at this moment that Gil realized he would have to pick who he would ride with. Nick or Greg?

He didn't want to chose, he wanted to go with both, but he couldn't. He had enough time to look in on Nick before he had to decide. The paramedics around him were trying to get him onto the gurney but he was struggling against them in a panic. He swatted at one of them with his broken hand. The paramedic wasn't quite quick enough to avoid the feeble attack and Nick screamed as pain shot through his hand. Decision made. He quickly went to Nick, kneeling beside him.

"Nicky, calm down, these people are going to help you." the paramedics stepped back for a moment while Grissom tried to calm down their patient. Nick looked around sluggishly and confused, searching for the new, familiar voice. It was a voice that meant safety, he was sure of it.

"Griss?" it was barely a whispered.

"I'm right here Nicky. You need to let them help you. I promise, I won't leave again. I'm right here." That did the trick. Nick visibly deflated. If Grissom said it was safe, then it was. He felt the world starting to slip away from him and he let it go, Grissom was here, he was safe again. He didn't have to be scared anymore.

"Nicky, stay wake." his eyes dragged open again. He was moving, upward it felt like. Then it leveled off for a while. He felt like he was floated. He was so tired and cold. Everything hurt. He just wanted to sleep. Gil watched Nick like a hawk as the headed towards the door. He could see him drifting, barely gripping consciousness. They stepped outside and were immediately assaulted by icy sheets of rain. Nick was instantly whimpering, desperately trying to sit up and escape. Grissom cursed every drop of rain and molecule of cloud. They loaded quickly into the ambulance and he sat at Nick's head.

Nick still fighting to get away, head tossing side to side weakly, struggling to sit up, only to be pushed back down. Grissom put a hand on Nick's forehead gently. The action drew his attention away from the struggles as he looked around confusedly for the cause of the contact. He fought so hard to stay awake. He was so tired. The world was so blurry, he couldn't tell who these people around him were. He felt the panic rising as they continued there activities and the pain rose twice as fast as the panic.

Gil swore at how cold Nick's skin felt against his hand. He should be shivering but he wasn't, he hardly moved at all. His eyes wandered sluggishly, all recognition of those around him was gone. The paramedics were working furiously on him. He was glad at Nick's lack of awareness when they stripped him of his clothes completely and put on a fresh boxers that were a tad bit small. He felt the thrill of horror as he saw Nicks knee, swollen to nearly four times the regular size, misshapen so that his leg had to set at an awkward angle and black like his shoulder. There was a definable pattern of purple highlights and as Grissom looked at it closely, he realized with rage that the purple was the bruise replica of a boot print.

Nick was suddenly panicking again, fighting against them, trying to escape from their administrations, looking about as wildly as his sluggish reactions would allow. He mumbled and moaned beneath the oxygen mask giving him heated air.

"Shh…it's okay Nicky, they're just trying to help, shh….it's okay. It's over, it's over." he calmed again, his eyes on Grissom unfocused. The effort it took to keep them open was clear.

"Griss?"

"I'm here Nicky, I'm here." he was staring at Grissom fearfully as if he would suddenly disappear if he looked away.

"th' sai' they wouldn' kill me..said they keep me round for years…"

"Shhh…it's okay, it's over Nicky, it's over."

"was so scared….hurt….so bad….scared." he was fading fast. The medics said to keep him awake. _I'm trying! Can't you see I'm trying!_

"It's okay Nicky, it's over, you're safe now, you're safe."

"hurtsth,…scared…don' go…"

"It's okay, I won't leave, you're safe, you don't have to be scared anymore, it's over." he wiped away the tears that Nick cried shamelessly, too tired and weak to hold them back. A nurse was examining his knee, grabbing a portable x-ray machine, practically letting it hover over the knee but the pain flared to such an intensity he hadn't felt before. Nick screamed, jerking up a few inches off the gurney, the tears flooding free, and fell back to the gurney, eyes rolling into the back of his head unconscious. They all paused, stunned. Grissom bristled but the knee had to be examined, they all knew it, so with extreme care, they continued their work. Nick continued to whimper and cry as they worked but never truly regained consciousness.

When they arrived at the hospital, it was never too soon. Grissom had half listened to the medics telling each other, only catching snatches. Words like hypothermia, punctured lung, this or that broken, collapsed lung, and blood loss. None of it had context to him. He simply watched Nick, keeping a hand on his forehead, continuing the contact that had kept Nick calm. He followed quickly into the hospital and when a nurse went to stop him from following past that red line, he never gave her a chance.

"I don't care what you say, I'm staying." the nurse looked at the lead doctor for help. It was the same doctor that Grissom had requested for the rest of his team.

"Leave him be." she gave him a hard look after addressing the surprised nurse. "the moment you get in our way you leave. Am I clear?"

"Perfectly." he followed where ever they took Nick, never getting in the way. As he stood in the operating room, watching Nick fearfully, the victory of finding them marred severely by their mental and physical conditions, he realized just how broken his team was right now. No one was paying attention to him and he was glad as the emotions finally escaped utterly silent. Gil Grissom finally cried.

**A/N: I do love good angst. What'd ya think?**


	29. Chapter 29

**A/N: Okay, this is definately the hard part about stories. PUTTING THEM BACK TOGETHER...GET THE GLUE! Anyways, here's the next chapter, applaud me for getting it up, hehe, I"m having too much fun! Enjoy!**

Chapter 29

Grissom sat, watching Nick breathe. He was so happy that he was breathing. He was happy that they were all breathing still. He still breathed shallowly and slowly. Whenever he'd try to take a deep breath it would hitch and he'd wince, though he was still asleep from the sedatives. The doctors had been reluctant to sedate him with a concussion, but he'd required emergency surgery. He was supposed to call the moment Nick woke up. He was beginning to wonder whether Nick really would wake up. Hours had passed. A nurse bustled in and examined him yet again. A few minutes later the doctor came in. She gave Nick some kind of stimulant, apparently it would help him wake up they said.

It worried him that they were struggling to wake him up. They said that it was probably just exhaustion, but they were greatly concerned about his severe concussion, which apparently had been aggravated many times which has sustained and worsened it. He hadn't realized how harsh his treatment had been exactly, though he had a very good idea, until they'd told him his current decision when they'd brought him to the room. He'd been dangerously dehydrated and slightly malnourished when they found him. He had suffered sustained hypothermia, they were guessing at least two days maybe three out of almost four day kidnapped he'd suffered hypothermia, his saving grace that they'd arrived when they did, four broken ribs, three cracked, a lung had been punctured and eventually collapsed, but they were able to re-inflate it and it was healing nicely. His shoulder had been severely dislocated and was fractured in several places, but they said that with good care it would be fine.

His knee was badly damaged, the knee cap shattered and had to be removed, the joint had splintered up into the shin and femur. It was going to take a few minor surgeries to repair. They'd currently numbed the entire leg so he couldn't move it. His hand was another matter. All the fingers and thumb were broken, several of the small bones farther up in his hand were also broken, and quite a few had been seriously ground up, and his wrist had cracked. It was going to require quite a few surgeries, the bones having to be reset for months, and even if everything went perfectly, they weren't sure if he'd regain his use of that hand. He felt his anger rising again. Nick hadn't deserved this. Before all this had begun he wouldn't have thought anyone deserved such treatment, but now, he had a couple of names that he would put on the list of deserving this. None of his team were even close to being on it, and yet they were the ones that had suffered. _And I failed to protect them all._

He sighed angrily. He was angry at the people who did this. He was angry at the moles that had known information that could have helped save Greg and Nick and everyone else from the abuse and they kept quiet all in the name of money. But mostly, he had to admit, he was angry at himself. He didn't know how, but he could have, should have, done more to protect them then he had. A small part of him knew he wasn't being rational but he caged that part away where he couldn't hear. He didn't want to think rationally right now, he felt like he'd failed them and he wanted to wallow in that feeling as a sort of self punishment. He knew subconsciously that rationality would return and he would forgive himself eventually, but right now he didn't want to. Nick moaned weakly, his head lolling towards Grissom. He jumped up swiftly, standing over Nick where he could be seen.

"Nicky? Nicky? Come on Nicky wake up." he moaned again beginning to shiver violently. Grissom pulled the blanket up higher trying to relieve his discomfort.

"Nicky, I need you to wake up, please wake up. Nicky?" he groaned and Grissom remembered to press the call button suddenly. His eyes dragged open heavily, closing at first but then they opened and settled glazed at half mast. He swallowed thickly.

"Griss?" he whispered confused.

"Hey Nicky, right here." he tried to sit up suddenly, crying out as fresh pain shot through him.

"h've to get 'way" Gil pushed him back down gently.

"Easy Nicky, it's okay, it's over." he deflated, exhausted, watching Grissom with unfocused eyes. The world was still far too blurry and indefinable.

"Over?"

"That's right, it's over."

"Safe 'gain?" Grissom's heart broke at the hopeful plea.

"That's right, you're safe again. No one will ever hurt you again. You're safe."

" 'kay." he was drifting to sleep again when the doctor arrived. He jolted semi-awake again at the sound of the new voice.

"Sorry I'm late. One of my patients coded. Don't worry Mr. Grissom, none of yours." she smiled as he closed his mouth from demanding answers. She gave Nick a warm smile though he was drifting asleep again.

"Hey Nicky, can you stay awake for a little longer."

"Tired" he mumbled, his eyelids stalling in their downward trek.

"I know sweety, I'll be as quick as I can." she pulled out a pen light and gently peeled his left eyelid open a little and flashed the light across his eyes. He groaned and tried to pull away but she had a hold on his chin as she did the other eye.

"No, too bright." he moaned.

"I know, I'm done." he was drifting asleep again.

"Nicky stay awake, I'm almost done." it took him longer to peel his eyes open again, not getting them as far open as before, but he managed.

"Can you follow my finger?" she moved her finger slowly to one side, then in the other direction. His eyes sluggishly followed part way but stopped at a certain point and couldn't follow past and he was having to constantly drag them back to look at the finger.

"Good job, now how many fingers do you see?" she held up one finger.

" s'all blurry. Two?" he guessed. He started to drift asleep.

"Nicky, hold on, don't sleep yet." he dragged his eyes open, just barely slits.

"Are you still cold?" he nodded weakly.

"How's the pain? Bad or really bad?" he swallowed thickly.

"really bad." he whispered.

"Okay, you did great, you can go to sleep now sweety." she'd barely finished the statement when he was deep asleep again. The doctor excused herself for a moment promising to return quickly and that's what she did. She came in carrying two large, warm looking blankets and set them on the foot of the bed and injected something into Nick's iv.

"Is he okay?" Grissom asked worriedly.

"I'd be lying if I said he was. I just gave him something for the pain, though with this concussion I'm not ready to give him the good stuff like he needs. This is one of the worst concussions I've seen in a long time. It's why he couldn't stay awake for even five minutes."

"but he will eventually be okay, right?"

"Well, the main concerns are the concussion of course, getting him warmed up and keeping him warm, and of course infections can easily set in, but under good care, which he will get, he has pretty good chances." she pulled back the blanket from Nick. He moaned and gave a single violent shiver that reduced to a small, constant shiver. She gave him a sympathetic look and went to work peeling back the bandages on his chest and stomach. A few of them looked as if they were becoming red and inflamed. She frowned.

"What?" he asked feeling panicky.

"Well, I was expecting some kind of infection, but this is a little sooner than I predicted. Not to worry, it's been caught very early, a few good antibiotics and it'll be beat." she removed the soiled bandages completely, cleaning the injuries before putting fresh bandaging on them.

"Are you sure?" everything scared him right now, made him think he would lose one of them.

"Yes, catching this as early as I am, and as aggressive as I'll be with treatment, it shouldn't get very far. Are you the one that put the first bandages on his wrists?"

"yes"

"Well congratulations, you saved his life. I realized when I saw the damage that he would have bled out before the paramedics got there if you hadn't. You did a very good job."

"There wasn't much choice in the matter."

"You have a point." she stretched the blankets back over Nick, adding the two new blankets. "I'm done here for now, I doubt he will, but if he wakes up before I come back have me paged or if you need anything."

"Wait, do you know how Greg is? I haven't heard any word on how he's doing."

"Oh yes, Greg. I can't tell you a lot, but we do know that he was drugged with a powerful sedative. Two things went wrong. The first was that he was severely overdosed with the drug, and the second was that the drugs were given with complete disregard to what he already had in his system."

"What happened?"

"His heart accelerated to a dangerous rate, thus he had to hyperventilate not to suffocate. His heart started throwing PCP's about a half an hour ago to correct itself."

"What are PCP's?"

"It's where the heart is beating irregularly, often too fast as is Greg's case, so the heart stalls or stutters to try and get back to a regular beat and slow down. Also the combination of drugs is acting like a hallucinogen, and caused a high fever spike."

"He's hallucinating!"

"He was conscious for a few minutes when he arrived and yes he was having a severe, visual, and perhaps auditory hallucination, though he's been unconscious ever since."

"Is he going to be okay?"

"He's stable for now, but he's still at a high risk. We're flushing the drugs out of his system as quickly as possible. I'm insisting him be on minimal medications while his body chemistry corrects itself after such an overdose. we had to reset a couple of his ribs that had been re-broken, a few were cracked as well, but my main concern are the drugs in his system. I'm on my way to check on him now."

"Thank you. For taking care of them all." she flashed him a comforting smile and was gone. He sank back into the chair and watched Nick again. He was wishing he could be in a dozen different places at the same time right now. He hated having to choose between his team members, but it was clear that some were in need of him more than others at the moment. But that didn't make it easier to choose.

At some point he was able to sneak away when Brass dropped by, watching over Nick while he had his little jaunt. First he went to check on Warrick who was still in ICU until tomorrow sometime. He was still in a drug induced slumber. He was glad for that, he didn't have to worry about him feeling neglected or ignored yet. Next he went and found Catherine talking quietly with Sara who was awake for once. He didn't interrupt. Next he saw Archie who was half awake. He asked how he was but he got a mumbled answer that he couldn't decipher. Archie was asleep before he made it to the door. His last stop was to see Greg. He was unconscious, shaking badly, the heart monitor still tracking a too fast heart beat though it and his breathing were closer to normal now. He'd whispered his apologies for not coming sooner, and brushed the sweat soaked hair out of Greg's eyes before leaving.

He arrived back to Nick's room, thanking Brass for his short reprieve and sat back down for his vigil. Every now and then he would shift slightly, moan or whimper, then settle again. The doctor would come every couple of hours and wake Nick up, which took quite a bit of effort, and asked the questions from before. The answers would vary from time to time, like for a while he was seeing triplicate but in perfect clarity, then he was seeing normally except for everything being incredibly blurry.

The only thing that truly remained a constant was his gauging of how much pain he was in, which was defined as really bad still. He always fell asleep before the doctor left. Somewhere around midnight, Nick woke up on his own before the scheduled wake up, dry heaving for the life of him. He had to depend completely on Grissom to hold him up while he heaved. He rubbed circles on Nick's back having seen Catherine do it with Lindsey, hoping it would help relax and comfort Nick. The doctor gave him anti-nausea meds but he was asleep before Gil had even laid him back down to the bed. Sympathetic and concerned for Nicky, he continued his dutiful vigil through the night.

**A/N: Poor poor Nicky, everyone give him a hug!**


	30. Chapter 30

**A/N: Yet again, another chapter. YOU LOVE ME! Very angsty, your favorite. All about Nick(fear not the others are not forgotten!) Let me know what ya think!**

Chapter 30

By morning, Nick was sick. After his late night dry heave he'd actually managed to wake up an hour or two later and stayed awake long enough to try and eat a couple of bites of chicken broth with noodles. That came up half an hour later and he didn't attempt food again. He slept for a while after that but then he woke up from a violent coughing fit, hacking and wheezing painfully for nearly fifteen minutes before the doctor could get the coughing calmed down. He was shivering again but he was burning up to the touch. Although the fever was obvious she still took his temperature scribbling it on his chart with a scowl. She pulled out her stethoscope.

"Sit him up for me please." Grissom did as he was told, Nick slumping against him exhausted with a groan. He rested his head sideways on Gil's shoulder and just tried to get back to sleep miserably. She pressed the scope to his back and he whimper, mumbling something about it being cold. She apologized and warmed it up a little before placing it on his back again.

"Nicky, can you take a deep breath for me? Nicky?" he was asleep again. She was reluctant to wake him but she really did need to check him over. It took quite a bit of gentle prodding to wake him and even then he was only marginally awake.

"Nicky, I need you to take a deep breath for me okay, I'll be as quick as I can so you can sleep." he didn't respond but he seemed to understand taking a slow, deep breath. He didn't get very far before he was hacking and wheezing painfully, holding his ribs tightly as they adamantly protested the action. She moved the scope to his chest listening, and trying to sooth him as he coughed miserably. It took him a long time to get the coughing to stop, taking in slow shallow breaths, afraid of breathing deeply.

"What's wrong with him?" _Now? _He added mentally. He was getting worried about this new complication whatever it was.

"I think this is the onset of pneumonia. I'm ordering up some powerful antibiotics for him immediately, I don't want this getting any worse."

"Pn-Pneumonia!" he was feeling panicked.

"Yes, this is something to worry about, but don't go panicking yet. When he wakes up again just try to get him to eat something. You don't have to stuff him, a few bites every now and then would be good. Anything to give his body the energy and nutrition it needs to fight the germs." he nodded.

"But he'll be okay, right?"

"It's going to be tough, between the concussion and the coughing he's obviously not getting much rest. Once I can start giving him stronger pain reliever, which will help him sleep easier, and don't have to wake him up constantly, it'll get easier."

"Okay, but his chances are still good right?"

"Well I'm doing my best, and he clearly has a lot of support from you, and I have a feeling if they were occupying rooms of their own, the rest of his friends would be here too."

"That's for sure."

"Why do I get the feeling your entire month has been like this?"

"Because my only team members not in the hospital are me and Catherine, and she was just released a few days ago."

"Well, just remember, with the care they're getting, and your support, it can only go up from here."

"That's what I thought when we got Greg back the first time. Now look what's happened. Archie was shot twice, Siler was killed, Warrick has been shot twice after a good beating, Nick and Greg kidnapped, and in the condition they're in now. How much more can they take?" _I can't believe I just told you all of that, I don't know you._ And then he realized. _That's why I'm telling you. Because in the end, I don't really care what you think about me, and I'll never see you again after this, you're an ear to listen and that's all._

"Just remember, don't give up. You don't lose until you give up. That's when the criminal truly wins." he cocked an eyebrow.

"Are you a psychologist or a doctor?"

"I'm better, I'm someone who listens, without judgment." _And a mind reader it seems._ She finished her work and left, apparently to check on the rest of his team. He was glad for her to leave. She'd been pleasant and gave him a lot to think about. Her statement echoed in his mind as he watched Nick breathe shallowly. _You don't lose until you give up, that's when the criminal truly wins._ Grissom hadn't even realized that he was slowly giving up until now. For so long he'd just wanted to close his eyes and not open them until it was over. But seeing Nick now, weakened by the sickness and the brutal abuse, he realized, the last thing he wanted to do was give up. He didn't want to close his eyes and hide, not knowing what was happening and not knowing what to do. He wanted to be in charge. He wanted to give reason for all the dependence his team had for him. They respected and trusted that if they needed help, he would be there for them.

He watched Nick struggle for sleep, wishing there were more he could do. He would be finally drifting into more than just a dozing sleep and he would suddenly be choking for air, coughing and hacking as he wheezed painfully, his eyes screwed shut against the pain in his body. It reverberated with every cough, every gasp for air, he couldn't get relief. He just wanted to sleep. He just wanted to sleep and either wake up to everything back to normal, without the constant pain, or not wake up.

But Grissom was always there, helping him through the constant, painful coughs, talking to him, telling him he was safe and that he'd be okay. His mind was so foggy he didn't even wonder what he was suddenly safe from, but he was glad to be safe. He had this strange feeling of having been afraid, in danger for so long. He was tired of being afraid. He just wanted to be safe, that was how he felt with Grissom here, helping him through his exhausted delirium. For now, he was content to sleep, or at least try.

Grissom watched helplessly as just as Nick looked have finally fallen into true sleep, he jerked awake again hacking and wheezing with a congested rasp now added to it. He sighed and rubbed his back, the only thing that seemed to speed the coughs to their end. He wasn't sure whether it was the back rubs or the fact that he had to be sitting up that helped. He thought it was a little of both. He waited until the coughing subsided again before laying him back again. To his surprise, unlike the times before where he'd been almost asleep before he hit the pillow, he was still awake, looking around in a haze. He swallowed thickly. Gil pressed the call button. It looked to be his chance to try and get some food into Nick. He was quick to use the call button. Nick was watching him bleary eyed.

"Griss?" he croaked.

"Hey Nicky. I'm right here." a sluggish blink, a thick painful swallow.

"don' feel good." he sounded so miserable and small. A nurse came in and he sent them off for a bowl of chicken broth with noodles.

"I know Nicky, we're working on it, just hold on for little longer okay?"

"Tired" the nurse returns with the soup.

"Hey Nicky, I have some soup here, can you try a few bites?" he scrunched his nose in disgust but quickly stopped remembering that it was broken.

"Uh uh."

"Come on Nick, it's only a few bites then I'll let you sleep"

"Not, hungry"

"I didn't say you were but you need to eat, it'll help you feel better faster."

"Okay." Grissom raised the bed up so Nick could sit up without help then he grabbed the soup and held it close so he wouldn't spill it all over Nick. He gave him a bite, mostly consisting of broth. Nick grimaced horribly but he swallowed it down.

"Tastes bad?"

"Stomach hurts."

"Only three bites, you only have to have three bites." he gave him another bite with a couple more noodles in it. He munched the noodles quickly and swallowed it down with another grimace. He really did not want to be eating right now. Grissom was glad that the spoon was abnormally large. He was getting more food than he realized. He gave him the third bite which consisted heavily of noodles. Nick was falling asleep before he even finished the bite.

"Nick stay awake, you have to finish that bite, I don't want you choking because you fell asleep before swallowing." his eyes popped open a little and he finished chewing and swallowed. Before he could fall asleep Gil pressed a small cup of apple juice to his lips.

"a quick sip, make sure you got it all." Nick obeyed not really aware of what was going on around him. He got about half the cup, which wasn't very much at all, and he was asleep. Grissom sighed with relief. He ate something. That had to help. Didn't it? About ten minutes of what looked to be actual restful sleep, Nick was jolted awake again coughing and wheezing more violently than before. He just seemed to get it calmed down when it would begin again mere minutes later. After a while it lulled for about fifteen minutes, in which that time Nick had cried for a can was puking up all the soup and juice he'd downed. He just held up the can, rubbing his back, his solution for everything right now, and talked Nick through the misery.

Hours dragged by as the routine was always the same. Nick would hack and wheeze almost constantly now getting not so restful dozes in between the few breaks he got. Grissom would manage to get him to eat something washed down by juice, and within the next fifteen minutes it would all come back up. The doctor would come by and regretfully wake him up if he was asleep and do the usual concussion routine and give him more anti-nausea meds and antibiotics before leaving again. Somewhere around eight in the morning, they couldn't believe they'd actually made it this far, the sniffles arrived to join the coughing and vomiting.

By nine, Nick had managed to roll onto his side, against the good shoulder, and curl into the tightest ball his body would allow, excusing the leg that was numbed. He braced his damaged hand gently around his waist with the other which was tightly bound to his side to support his shoulder. He had dark circles under his eyes, comparable to a black eye, which was easy to do given that he did have a black eye. He stared listlessly at the bed sheets with bloodshot eyes just wanting to die he was so miserable. He couldn't stay awake from the concussion, he couldn't sleep because of the coughs, he was constantly throwing up if he ate anything more than the juice, and even that only in small quantities, he couldn't breathe from the recent crop up of severe congestion, and his whole body hurt mercilessly from just about everything. He couldn't get relief.

His only saving grace was that Grissom had been there with him through it all. Talking to him, trying to distract him from the misery. He probably didn't realize just how much he was helping him, making things a little easier with the back rubs with helped to soothe and relax him, easing the painful tension building in his back from all the strain of the coughing and puking. Talking to him, a familiar, kind voice letting him know he wasn't alone. Taking care of all the little things, as well as the big, that Nick could no longer do, without even mentioning. Later, he would hate having been reduced to this, where Grissom had to literally wipe his nose for him because he couldn't, but for now, it was a salvation that he loved.

Gil watched as Nick struggled to breathe normally without coughing, and again he failed miserably ending up hacking a lung, again. The doctors were pumping him to the gills with antibiotics and drugs for his symptoms, but if they were helping, he couldn't see how, and he doubted Nick could either. He looked so miserable. He wished he could do more. At some point he wondered if they should put him on a ventilator just so he could get one deep breath, but he had a feeling it would make things worse since every time he took a semi-deep breath he suddenly had to cough. The ventilator wouldn't allow for that, but the need would still be present he figured. He turned tiredly when Brass walked in.

"Hey could you watch him for a few minutes while I check on the rest of my team?"

"Sure. How's he doing?"

" 'bout as good as he looks, maybe worse, it's hard to tell." he got up to leave but Nick tried to catch his wrist with his bandaged hand. He dodged speedily not wanting to cause more damage or pain for him.

"Griss…don' go….please…stay…" it was hoarse and barely a whisper, but it won instantly. He sighed and sat back down.

"Can you go see how my team is and let me know?" he asked Brass.

"Not a problem." he walked out without another word. Nick was watching him through bloodshot eyes.

"It's okay Nicky, I won't leave, I'm staying here." he blinked sluggishly, a little bit of tension easing visibly.

"Good…don' wan' be alone…" his heart broke as he wondered yet again what Nick had gone through those three long days, glad that it hadn't made it to four like had been threatened.

"It's okay Nicky, you're not alone. You're not alone." he put a hand on his arm, well away from the wrist and hand, giving him a constant connection even with his eyes closed. He seemed to relax a little more, struggling to sleep and breathe, comforted by Grissom's presence. He wasn't alone.

**A/N: See, angsty ain't it! Poor Nicky! Another round of hugs for him!**


	31. Chapter 31

**A/N: Another chapter, another layer of glue. Griss gave up, he switched to rubber cement. Let's see how it's going with the new product! R&R!**

Chapter 31

Catherine crutched her way towards Nick's room. She'd been going between Warrick, Sara, Greg these past few days. She hadn't been able to get to Nick yet, but he'd been guarded by Grissom for two days now, starting on day three. Brass had been by, checking on them all and reporting back to Gil. According to him Nick was sick as a dog and was looking worse than most of Doc Robbins autopsy subjects. She sighed tiredly. This was not their month. She sighed again and turned into the room. Grissom looked horrible. He had dark, sunken circles under his bloodshot eyes. He sat up in the chair but was sagging greatly, holding himself up with his elbows on the arms of the chair, watching Nick blankly. She could see his head droop and jerk up suddenly as he tried to stay awake, clearly dead on his feet. If he could even get to them.

"Gil" he turned slowly and blinked owlishly at her.

"hey Cath."

"Have you slept at all? Or eaten anything for that matter?" she gave him the motherly scowl.

"Uhh…"

"I thought so."

"hasn't been time." he said over a yawn. She pulled her phone out and before he could stop her had called for a ride home for him to be here in forty five minutes.

"You're going to go home and sleep. Your ride with be here eleven. I don't want to see you back until five."

"I can't leave him." he waved at Nick.

"I'll stay with him. I came here to see Nick but I also came because you need to go see Archie." his eyes flashed.

"What's wrong with Archie!"

"Nothing, physically. I'm worried about emotionally. You need to talk to him." he sighed and tiredly lifted himself to his feet, swaying slightly.

"Another thing, you have to eat while you're gone." he smiled tiredly.

"Deal." she watched him shuffle out of the room exhausted and took a seat. This was her first _good_ look at Nick. He stared blankly, unfocused and unseeing like a blind man with bloodshot eyes, his skin flushed to the tones of a lobster, a rough, constant tremor raking across his body. His mouth was open wheezing for air, his nose useless to him now, fully clogged. He held his body tensely, afraid to move and then suddenly not a part of him would be motionless, jerking and lurching with each painfully violent cough, hugging his ribs tighter with his semi-good arm. She never would have thought there could be any darker than Grissom's, but Nick's dark circles under his sunken eyes easily topped his.

His breaths were shallow and shuddering, stalling before each exhale a faint, almost too faint to hear moan escaping with each used up breath. He swallowed thickly with a grimace and tried to curl tighter into himself as he started another, longer lasting fit of coughs. He squeezed his eyes shut quickly while he waited desperately for the coughing to stop. Once it did, he opened his eyes again, looking about groggily. He couldn't seem to find what he was looking for and gained a look of fear. He gulped desperately trying to sit up.

"Griss? Griss? They took him? They took him?" he looked around panicked.

"Hey Nicky, it's okay Nicky. Grissom's just checking on everyone else right now." his eyes latched onto her, squinting and blinking, trying to clear his vision. He swallowed thickly again.

"Cath?" he blinked again, not sure whether he was right.

"That's right. I'm here, good ole Catherine, here to take care of you." the corners of his mouth just barely turned up for a second in his feeble attempt at a smile.

"Cath." he swallowed again "feel bad" he shivered again more violent before settling into the constant trembles.

"Ahh Nicky, you can beat this." she stroked her fingers through his hair gently. He groaned, clutching his stomach tighter.

"Can" he gasped. He didn't have anything to produce so he dry heaved miserably for a good ten minutes. She stood holding the can under his chin, rubbing circles in his back while he heaved. They were both relieved when he finally stopped heaving, moaning. She put down the can and went back to Nick, brushing away the sweat plastered hair gently. He shuddered again. He'd never known exhaustion until now. He kept wondering how he was still alive. He just wanted to sleep. He closed his eyes and tried to take a deep breath, wheezing yet again with the violent hacking.

The world was taking on a familiar spin and rocked like a boat in the ocean. It made him sick. He felt like he was on fire but freezing to death at the same time. His head was pounding with more than just a concussion. His chest was tight and his lungs ached unbearably that each tiny breath was a painful effort. He barely felt the bed shift when Catherine sat down on it beside him. She was talking to him but there was this buzz in his ears as his boiling blood rushed through them. He opened his eyes wearily trying to look at her but the world refused to take definition aside from the blur. He blinked owlishly focused on trying to actually see normally. It was too bright, his eyes hurt so he closed them again.

Catherine shifted Nick around onto his back again gently then came up, leaning him against her, her arm wrapping behind his neck back to the front to stroke his forehead in an upward motion towards his hair gently. He was oblivious to it all in his fevered haze. He felt something cool pressed against his lips, a slight wetness registered on his skin the receded back again. He licked his lips thickly and felt a sweet, liquid flavor but he couldn't place what it was anymore. Catherine was talking to him. He tried so hard to understand what she said, but he was so tired and miserable, it garbled.

"Nicky, can you take a sip, just to wash out the bad taste?" she looked down at him and knew he hadn't understood, so she pressed the cup to his lips, filled with apple juice, and let a little bit of the liquid pour into his mouth instead of just wetting his lips which had been the precursor to the drink. She gave him another sip when he swallowed the first then set the cup down awkwardly. It wasn't easy to hold the cup with your wrist in a cast, but she'd managed. She continued to talk to him softly, even if he was too sick to understand, always keeping her voice mellow almost like a lullaby as she talked, stroking his forehead. It seemed to work. Nick slowly drooped heavier against her, his breathing evening out into a regular, slow tempo, his body relaxed as she gave him something Grissom wouldn't and couldn't give him. Tender loving care of a mother with her bag of tricks.

--oo0oo--

Grissom walked wearily towards Archie's room. He didn't know what he was going to do. He wasn't skilled in helping people with their emotions. He just didn't get people. Give him a bug and he knew exactly what to do, a person and he was lost. Why Catherine hadn't just helped Archie herself he didn't know. What on earth did she think he could do? He wouldn't even know what he was dealing with when he saw it. He sighed, pausing at the door. Might as well get it over with and hope he didn't make things worse.

"Hey" Lockwood turned.

"Hi"

"How bout you go get some coffee and stretch your legs?"

"Alright, I'll be back in fifteen." After he was out of the room Grissom turned to Archie, who had yet to notice his presence. He was working on a laptop, the subject unknown but it clearly had all his attention. He could see that he was in pain and would actually wince every now and then.

"Archie?"

"I'm fine, I don't need any morphine." he said monotone. Grissom frowned.

"I don't have morphine." Archie paused, blinked and actually looked up this time.

"Oh, Grissom, I'm sorry." still monotone.

"What are you working on?"

"The bug."

"Why?" _he doesn't need to be working, we have other people to do this….though, none as good as he is….who gave him the laptop anyways?_

"Might as well be worth something after all this fuss over me." very monotone again. He lacked any sign of enthusiasm. Enough was enough. Grissom grabbed the laptop before Archie could protest snapping it closed and setting it on a table too far for him to reach.

"Hey!" a wince.

"Don't do this to yourself Archie." he gave him a hard look.

"Not good enough to do even that huh?" he spat, more at himself to Grissom. It was the first none monotone sentence he'd said.

"Archie you are perfectly capable. You would be my first choice except for the fact that you've been shot and beaten in the hospital." Archie winced. But didn't say anything. The silence was awkward.

"He was right."

"who?"

"Kelps, he was right."

"About what?"

"I'm a loner. Only tv and work to keep me company."

"No you're not."

"Yes I am."

"Than why am I here?"

"Obligation."

"If that were true I would have been gone the moment I saw you alive and breathing. Or for that matter, if you were truly a loner, why was Warrick so devastated and in shock when he showed up at the hospital with you? He did ride with you too, he didn't have to do that. He could have just let you go alone, but he didn't" Archie opened his mouth to argue but couldn't so he kept silent. He looked down at his hands.

"I can still feel it."

"What?"

"The gun, I can still feel the gun, pressing against my forehead."

"And how does it make you feel?" Archie wouldn't look at him but Grissom didn't press for him to.

"Afraid, insecure, weak."

"then you're normal. I would be worried if you didn't feel afraid or insecure, and weak, it a common next response. It's a psychological fault ground into the human mind that they're weak for being afraid, which isn't true. Any normal person would feel afraid and insecure with a gun to their head. Especially after being badly beaten."

"So this is normal huh?"

"Perfectly. Oh and Archie, just because we don't say thank you, or give you the praise you deserve because we've been taking you for granted, doesn't mean you're a loner or incapable, you're just an unsung hero."

"Unsung hero?"

"That's right, like the dung beetle. Everyone is glad for the work they do, which is incredible, but they don't ever give them the praise or appreciation they deserve, they just take the dung beetle for granted."

"You're trying to make me feel better so you compare me to a dung beetle?" he started to worry that he'd messed this up, but then he saw the wry smile on Archie's face. It was a welcome sight.

"Precisely." just then Lockwood came back into the room. Grissom stood heading for the door.

"Thanks Grissom."

"Not a problem. I'm off to check on all the other little dung beetles I have admitted here." and with the he left the room, Archie snorting cheerfully. Lockwood just shook his head and didn't even attempt to comprehend.

**A/N: A true Grissom moment, comparing the world to bugs, hehe!**


	32. Chapter 32

**A/N: Hello, Yes, new chapter, this is an updated version of the one I posted an hour ago, it's just grammatical changes, I was feeling a little rushed when I wrote it so I reread it and here are the changes, nothing serious, maybe two new sentences, not much different, enjoy!**

Chapter 32

When Grissom got home, he was sure he collapsed the second the door clicked shut and locked. He didn't remember stumbling towards his room, barely kicking off his shoes before he crawled under the blankets asleep before his head hit the pillow. He had never felt so physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausted in his life. But he also realized, he couldn't complain, this was nothing compared to the exhausted misery Nick was in, or the others for that matter. He was simply tired because he hadn't truly stopped since all of this began. Like everyone else, he couldn't wait for it to be over. He'd never slept so deeply in his life. It was thankfully dreamless, which was a fear that had kept him avoiding sleep, the chance of dreams, and it was very restful.

When he woke he had to lay there for nearly a half hour before he was truly awake enough to open his eyes, and then he discovered that they were sealed shut and crusty. Groaning he lifted a heavy arm and pried them open with another groan as the sharp crusty material broke from his skin and eyelashes flying away like meteors. He still had to lay there for a while staring blankly, feeling very lethargic and heavy. When he finally did move, his entire body popped and creaked with the tiniest movements. The first thing he did was plug in the coffee pot with the strongest, most caffeinated coffee he had. Then he went and gathered some fresh clothes and took a very long, hot, glorious shower, all the aches and pains he hadn't even realized they were there buried by all the other aches and pains eased and he felt the most tension free, relaxation he felt in the many weeks.

When it was time for him to get out of the shower, he was caught between reluctant and anxiously eager. He wanted to get back to Nick and the rest of his team, but the shower was so unimaginably good feeling. Eventually, the water gone cold, the eagerness won out. It took a very short time to make himself publicly presentable, and only just barely. He quickly found some leftover that wasn't quite recognizable but wouldn't kill him, downing it quickly with three highly sugared cups of coffee. He was out the door in seconds, cell phone in hand calling Catherine for an immediate update. He was amazed to hear that she'd managed to get Nick to a deep sleep, though it was still disturbed with coughing, it was sleep. She mentioned something about a woman's touch, and also something about hot tea of a special blend. He felt a twinge of jealousy that she'd succeeded helping Nick when he could not, but he pushed that away immediately reminding himself that it was not a competition. At her advising and his common knowledge that he'd pretty much neglected the rest of his team, he decided to stop by and see Sara before sitting with Warrick who was expected to be awake soon.

When he got there, he saw Sara, and her mood was burly and irritated at best. He sat with her wary of some kind of attack. She expressed her deep desire to be out of the hospital and helping the others, but the doctors weren't having any of it and she felt like she was going stir crazy, thus the bad mood was born. She was demanding answers and he gave them dutifully. She hadn't been awake to hear about Greg being found, slowly recovering, re-kidnapped, overdosed, beaten, and rescued again. Nor did she know about Warrick being shot twice trying to save Greg and Nick apparently having stumbled upon it or been part of it from the beginning, they didn't know yet. As he reiterated the story of chaos to her she bounced from subdued, to happy, to sad, to angry, to near sobbing, not in that order, but she found herself dominated by the anger. She couldn't believe how much had happened while she was sleeping peacefully in the hospital doped up on morphine. She hated it. She wanted to be up, helping the others get through this.

Her own experience was a blur. She didn't remember getting shot. She didn't remember anything during the beginning of her stay. Her last memory had been of waking up in a hospital, apparently having been shot. For her, it really had been like a bad dream, perfectly surreal, so much that she didn't really think it happened, her only proof was her hospital stay. The thing that bugged her the most was having to _stay_, stay in the bed, stay at the hospital, stay still. Never get up, never able to help those truly in need. And that made her truly mad. Not being able to help. Eventually she'd gotten mad enough that she snapped at Grissom, asking why he was wasting time with her when he should be helping the others, who were the ones that truly needed help. She'd told him not to visit her again, that she'd see him when she was out and helping the others, and he obeyed a little fearful for his life. His next stop was Greg.

He was still asleep, his heart rate and breathing almost normal. At short intervals that were far apart his heart rate would spike fairly high for about a minute, three at the most and then it would even out again. He looked pail and thin, like he'd suffered the month that he'd had, exhaustion visible on his sleeping form. He still had a sheen of sweat and a violent shiver would course through him every now and then, the product of the fever which was caused by the overdose apparently. It was a long list of things that had happened, that shouldn't have, and he only hoped that his favorite lab rat, Greg Sanders got through it alive, in one piece, and still the cheerful, strangely unique, obnoxiously energetic Greg with a sense of fashion that couldn't quite be called fashion, they knew and loved. He put a hand on his arm gently trying to avoid the bruises. The doctors said he'd been roughed up a bit, but not much, just the old stuff getting a few set backs. His skin was unnaturally warm.

"Hey Greg, you need to get better okay. We got you back and no one can get you now. We're all eager for you to wake up again. We're all here for you, even if in a few pieces, but we're all here for you, we'll help you get through this, you can get through this, just wake up for us soon okay?" no response.

"I'll be back later, I have to make sure Warrick's behaving for the staff." no response. He left the room in silence.  
Warrick was his next stop. He hadn't actually seen him since the day he took the swab, which had matched to one of the moles, he didn't remember off the top of his head. It didn't really matter right now. He went inside without hesitation, somehow prepared for whatever came next. Warrick was still sleeping, the drugs having worn off yet, but a nurse had told him it could be within the hour or as late as the next day, it all depended on him. He pulled out his latest bug book, intending to spend time with his CSI for a while, but unwilling to wake him before he was ready. He was a little paranoid right now of them all suddenly catching pneumonia or some other icky illness and wanted them all getting as much sleep as they could stand, plus some.

He still felt anxious to go see Nick, actually called from room to room to see how he was doing. The phone had barely begun to ring when it was picked up. He wasn't much better than before, though Catherine said that she had this magical tea blend she had that the doctor approved and she was practically drowning Nick with it, another magic side affect of it being that it stayed down while helping ease the coughing enough that he could doze lightly, sometimes getting as much as ten minutes of what could be called deep sleep. She was managing to get some apple juice into him without it making a reappearance. Other than that he was the same, but those factors would help him to improve.

He looked up at Warrick again. He was looking much better than before. His skin looked to almost be it's normal color, the bruising nearly healed, and he just looked over all better. Best if he would wake up. He mind wandered in the direction of his emotional state. He was dealing with a wide variety right now. Sara was grouchy and irritable, not really remembering what happened with her, Catherine was fine and a big help with Nick and the others, Greg was unconscious and had been for a while but before that had been terrified last he heard, Archie was afraid, insecure, and a little doubting in his strength, but that might be over, he hoped, since they'd talked. Nick, was afraid, disoriented, and paranoid that if someone wasn't in the room that they were kidnapped and dead. At least that's how he was while he was coherent, the fever and pneumonia toppled with the concussion had him as incoherent as it could get. He was startled out of his thoughts by a groan, immediately ditching the book to the table. He stood immediately in his line of sight

His eyes jumped and twitched under their lids, his breathing and heart rate picked up a bit as consciousness slowly returned. He groaned again, his head lolling to the side. He swallowed thickly. Grissom talked to him, called his named, told him to wake up as he encouraged the drugs to wear off. Slowly, his eyes peeled open. He looked about groggily trying to get his bearings. He didn't remember what happened yet, he couldn't figure out where he was, but he could see Grissom hovering over him, smiling.

"Griss?"

"Hey Warrick, nice to see you finally awake." he blinked sluggishly. He felt heavy and slow.

"where?"

"The hospital, still." he tried to swallow again and realized his mouth felt like sand paper.

"Thirsty" his voice was a hoarse whisper. Grissom immediately produced a cup of ice chips and spooned them into his mouth slowly letting him suck on them greedily until he was satisfied.

"Thanks" he laid there, letting the drug induced lethargy recede like the tidal waves on a beach, though this one stayed out. He had his eyes closed for a bit feeling tired but not really ready to sleep.

"What happened?" even as he spoke the words an image flashed in his mind. Greg unconscious hanging half off the bed half on, Nick on the floor swaying dangerously, holding his bleeding head, barely remaining conscious. A man in the room, a dangerous man. And then everything went black from there.

"Nick! Greg! Are they okay." he burst before Grissom could start, sitting up suddenly, and regretting it. Pain exploded near his stomach and radiated out. He cried out, leaned back down and groaned. "won't be doing that again." he gasped.

"Relax Warrick, you need to take it easy, you're in the hospital for a reason." he stated matter of fact. He just looked at him for a moment.

"So what happened?"

"You got shot. You interrupted the kidnapping of Greg, maybe Nick too, you fought pretty well and ended up getting shot twice really high in the stomach." Warrick grimaced.

"What happened to Nick and Greg?"

"Well, they were kidnapped, missing for about four days at the most, then we found them, and they're…_improving._"

"Improving? What did these guys do to them."

"Nick got a bad beating. His knee was shattered and his shin bone and femur are badly splintered, his shoulder was severely dislocated and broken in several places. His hand…" he paused, "his hand was pretty much crushed, all his fingers were broken plus a few bones further up were broken as well as a cracked wrist. The bones were ground up pretty bad. They don't know if he's going to regain use of it again. That's the worst, other than that lots of broken ribs, punctured lung, hypothermia for three days, and now he has a bad case of pneumonia."

"Is he going to pull through?" he asked concerned.

"They're holding off judgment." Warrick gulped.

"What about Greg?"

"He was overdosed with a sedative that reacted with the meds he already had in his system. Sent his hold body chemistry on the fritz and his heart rate and breathing skyrocketed, they've got that under control now, he was a little banged up, but it looks like he was otherwise ignored. They say he'll recover."

"anyone else get hurt while I was asleep?"

"Archie got a pretty bad beating, someone was trying to recruit him as a mole. He's banged up, but he'll be okay." _I'm definitely glossing that over._

"Ummm…you've been busy."

"Yes, we have. Are you okay?"

"I think so, I'm really sore and tired. I don't remember a whole lot. I think I'm going to take a nap again." he yawned as a nurse walked into the room. He looked at Grissom.

"Go visit the others, I'm just going to be sleeping. I'll be fine."

"You sure? You're just as important as them."

"I'm sure, I'll call if I need anything, I promise. Go see Nick." Grissom saw his dismissal.

"Alright Warrick, I'll hold you to that."

" 'kay," he yawned, "just one thing!"

"What?"

"Did you get them all? Are these guys going down for this."

"Every last one of 'em." Warrick smiled.

"Good." Grissom left to go see Nick. And Warrick drifted off to sleep the moment the nurse left. A feeling of the beginnings of normalcy returning.


	33. Chapter 33

**A/N: Next Chapter! Let me know what you think! (I haven't forgotten Greg!)**

Chapter 33

Grissom was happy to be seeing Nick again. The guilt hadn't come for leaving Warrick, he'd been sent away. He seemed fine emotionally, stunned by everything that had happened while he was gone, but that was to be expected. They were all stunned by what had happened. It had been unimaginable in their wildest dreams, this occurrence of events. But he finally had that sense that, it was almost over, they were just starting to put the pieces of their lives back together. Everyone except Greg was conscious, though he wasn't quite sure Nick counted. He walked in to find Catherine snuggled up, slightly wedged behind Nick, an arm around him, helping him drink more juice. He didn't look a whole lot better. He coughed after the drink, groaned, and sagged further against her, positively miserable.

Catherine smiled at him when he came into the room. He sighed, relieved to see Nick again. He hadn't realized how eager and anxious he'd been to see him. He was the worst off out of everyone hospitalized right now and consumed most of Gil's thoughts. Nick was still oblivious to everything that went on around him, drowning in his own woes. Grissom found his chair, making sure he could see Nick in clear view.

"How is he?" he whispered not wanting to disturb him, unable to tell if he was asleep or not.

"A little better. He's able to keep down apple juice and my miracle tea. The coughing isn't as bad, thanks to the tea. Other than that he's about the same. He's getting some sleep at least." he nodded.

"That's something at least. It'll help him improve, being able to sleep and at least drink something." she nodded.

"How's Warrick?"

"Pretty good. Sore, tired, stunned by what's going on, but who isn't. He sent me out, told me to take care of Nick." she cocked an eyebrow.

"Oh?"

"I made him promise to call if he needed anything."

"That's good, sounds like a normal Warrick."

"So how'd you do it?" she smiled ornery at him.

"There are some things that men just can't do. All Nicky needed was a mother's touch."

"that's cheating."

"Is this a competition? I thought it was about Nick?" Gil sank into his chair a little more grumbling.

"No."

"How was your talk with Archie? Successful I hope?"

"Yeah, he's fine now, he just needed a dung beetle."

"I won't even ask." he smiled.

"So when do you get all the casts off?"

"the wrist goes free in a day or two, the leg sometime next week, maybe, they won't guarantee it."

"that's good. So how are you emotionally, since I seem to be helping everyone else?"

"they're tired, in shock, but okay. Mostly I'm eager for this to be over."

"So you're going to be okay."

"I can promise that I'll be seeing those tapes in my sleep for a while, but in the end, after a while, yes I'll be okay." she looked down at an exhausted, sickly Nick. "I'm just happy to have them all back and recovering."

"Me too."

"So, how are you doing? And be honest."

"I'm fine."

"So you are freaked out, insecure, neurotic, and emotional." he just stared at her stunned. She'd totally turned his stoic answer against him without skipping a beat. He wasn't sure how to answer, and then he just decided on the truth.

"yes."

"See that wasn't so hard. Besides, that's completely normal, everyone is feeling that way right now. Although, I think Nicky is too sick to realize right now, and Greg, well, we'll know when he wakes up."

"Which is soon I hope. I'm getting worried. He's been asleep for what, he looked at his watch which had the date on it., "four days now since we found him. He should be awake, they have him off all meds until he wakes up. He should have woken by now."

"Griss you have to give him time. He's been through a lot. He's physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausted. His body is healing itself. He needs it. You just have to be patient."

"I don't want to." she laughed quietly at his childish response. They were seeing a more emotional, open Gil Grissom than they'd ever seen before. It was somewhat entertaining. She liked it, just not what it had taken to get it to come out of the cage. Carefully she shifted out from under Nick, laying him gently onto the bed, her arm entirely numb. He whimpered but she continued.

"I'm going home for a shower that I desperately need. I'll keep an eye on the others for you while you stay with him because I know you're not leaving for a while." he nodded.

"Get some rest."

"I will, oh and if he gets coughing really bad, that tea on the table helps a lot, it's something he seems able to keep down either way."

"Thank you Catherine." he was glad that she'd been so available to help. When they'd gone after Greg, she immediately sent Lindsey to her grandmothers for an indefinite period of time alleviating her worries of safety as well as a restriction to her time. It had been a big help for her to be able to stay for so long. He looked at Nick again and found Nick looking back with glazed eyes. He wasn't sure whether he was actually seeing him until Nick spoke.

"Griss?" he smiled and moved closer to Nick.

"Hey Nicky. Are you feeling any better?" _Stupid question, stupid, stupid question._

"Little. 'specially with you back." Grissom smiled wider, a sentence! A full and complete sentence!

"Yeah, I'm glad to be back. Catherine kicked me out, apparently I needed sleep and food." he saw a small, weak smile that quickly faded in exhaustion, but it had been there. He shivered again and coughed violently. He wished his body would make up it's mind. He didn't care whether he was burning up or a popsicle, but he couldn't stand being both. It was confusing and exhausting. He found himself wanting to just sink into a Jacuzzi and drown in the warmth, at least that way he would be cold, just way to hot and it might relax his muscles which were painfully tense from the coughing and shivering.

He fell asleep again in a light doze, unable to attain the deep, dead sleep he wanted, but he was grateful for anything. He was constantly woken up by the coughing which caused his ribs to throb and his shoulder to pound. He was so glad that he couldn't feel his knee or hand right now. He was tempted to ask them to do that with his entire body, he might have, but if he had than the answer had been no. he continued to doze, never truly feeling better, but not getting worse. He had no idea how much time passed, but Grissom was always there, and that made him feel safe. It must have been for a long time because at times Grissom would be gone, but Catherine would have taken his place.

He always felt the jolt of fear when he would wake to find him gone, thinking that he'd been kidnapped or killed. He couldn't remember exactly why he would think this, his memory holding back just enough that he didn't know. There was something else that bugged him, it was about someone he knew. It was something bad, something that made him mad and sad, but he couldn't remember what. He knew it was because he was so sick that he couldn't remember, so he just had to wait it out. Sleeping and waking, the world a haze.

Grissom helped Nick as he coughed, rubbing his back, which seemed to comfort him, the signs in his face which would relax some when he was rubbing. He was giving him as much tea as he could since Nick seemed unable to hold the coughing at bay for the last three hours. Time seemed to be flying by but felt like it was going at a snails pace. He was grateful, he didn't feel rushed, but time passed quickly, closer to Nick beating the pneumonia. He couldn't wait for Nick to over come this. The more time that passed the harder it would be to repair his knee, shoulder, and hand without permanent damage, but the doctor was completely sure that he wouldn't survive a surgery in the state he was in, and if he didn't he would be so open to infections that would surely take him out. That was something he knew he didn't want to happen. He was determined to help Nick get better. Since he'd been thrown out by Catherine that first day, two more days had past much the same. Nick sleeping and coughing.

"Sit up?" they'd gone back to the two word and one word sentences. Full sentences were just too exhausting for him. But Grissom knew what he meant. Carefully, not jarring any of the many injuries, he helped Nick to sit up in bed.

"Better?" he nodded weakly. He hated feeling so tired. The haze had pulled back enough that he could think clearly, almost, for short spurts of time. This wasn't one of them. But he did realize for the first time in a long time, he was hungry, and the thought of food, wasn't such a bad thought.

"Food" man he was tired. Why couldn't he just get a little energy. All he was doing was sleeping but he just kept on feeling more tired.

"Sure, does soup sound okay?" Grissom inquired, surprised that Nick was _asking_ for food. Most of the time they tried to sneak food into him during his more delirious, too out of to realize, moments, and it always came back up again later. Maybe because he actually _wanted_ the food, it would stay down. He called for some food and waited for it to arrive. When it did he was surprised that Nick was still awake. Most of the time he would fall asleep before it could arrive. _He must be really hungry._

He spooned him the food slowly, not rushing him, at the ready to grab the can. He was amazed when Nick ate a third of the bowl before declaring himself full and promptly falling asleep. He sleep for a good hour with minimal coughing. When the nurse came to check on him she joyously declared that his dangerously high fever had dropped a whole degree. It was apparently the one degree that had been making Nick so nauseas he could only handle small sips of apple juice and the magical tea. He woke up feeling a little queasy, but he kept all of the food down. When he'd woken from his long, peaceful nap, he'd asked if he kept it all down and then beamed for a full minute with triumph at the success. That was quickly followed by another nap. The only thing that bugged Nick was that he couldn't remember the two things that he was forgetting and it was really bugging him because he had a sense of urgency to know and this strange sad feeling that was creeping up on him.

Grissom sat watching Nick, sleeping the most peacefully and deeply as he had in many days. Ever since he'd managed to down a third of a bowl of soup, he'd turned a corner. He'd kept down the soup, with the help of the tea he wasn't coughing so badly that he couldn't sleep, and tada! He was getting sleep, lots of sleep. It was pretty much all he did now, and it was the restful kind of sleep that was deeper than a doze. That one degree had been what was making the difference, once he lost that degree, life started improving. He still got sick every now and then, but only when he got too ambitious and ate too much or too quickly. Nick was sleeping peacefully, until the dream started. His subconscious whispered that this wasn't a dream, but a memory, a horrible memory.

He was in total darkness. It was cold, very cold. He felt wet, soaked to the bone and then some. It hurt to breathe, it hurt to move, it hurt to exist. He couldn't move, couldn't breathe, couldn't see. Fear pervaded his entire existence. He felt blow after blow in a surreal memory of pain, no longer there, but the memory of it fresh as a flower. It seemed to last forever, the hitting the kicking, a grinding that he couldn't locate the location of, just that it was there and it hurt. He tried to scream he tried to make a sound, anything, but it wouldn't work, his body was not his own, he was only there to feel what it felt during these horrid memories. He knew they were his own, but he prayed that they weren't. He didn't want to do this, not again, he _couldn't_ go through it again. He couldn't take the fear, the pain, the hopelessness, not again, he'd barely made it last time.

And then something changed. The kicks, the hits, the blows, they stopped. Not the pain, that resonated without falter. Then he felt them, the icy fingers wrapping around his chin, holding his head to face the unknown predator, the monster he couldn't see. The fear gripped him yet again, just as strong as the first time. He could smell it, the sweat salty and disgusting, the foul breath, coated with the vile stench of alcohol, hot on his face. Too close. Too close. It was too close. He heard the voice in his ear, cold, sinister, it was the sound of evil and it terrified him. His mind gave him the last most important thing he'd forgotten, the thing that hurt worse than any pain that had been inflicted upon himself. It had been what fed the hopelessness, gave it the strength to grow and consume. The words echoed in his ears.

Greg Sanders is dead.

Grissom jumped greatly startled when Nick woke up, jolting upright in bed screaming. He hadn't shown any sign of dream or nightmare for the entire hour he'd been sleeping, rather deeply too. But clearly the nightmare had been there, and all the more clearly, it had been intense and terrifying. He was up in a second. Nick fell back his ribs screaming in agony at the sudden movement, at an odd angle. His shoulder slammed against the bed rail and he screamed far from expecting the sudden blow. He jolted up again his shoulder too painful to touch to the bed now. Grissom was there this time on the second upward movement. He prevented Nick from falling back again, careful not to touch the shoulder, rubbing his back, rocking him back and forth without realizing he was even doing it.

"Oh god, they killed him. They killed him…they killed Greg…they killed Greg….he's dead he's dead he's dead…I couldn't protect him…I couldn't protect him…I lied I lied I lied. He's dead he's dead he's dead. I tried, I'm sorry, I tried I tried I tried…I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry…they killed Greg…." Grissom let him ramble for a bit, getting everything off his chest, pressed hard against him, his forehead on his shoulder, the hot tears coming like rivers as he sobbed uncontrollably.

"Shhhh…it's okay Nick, it's okay, calm down, it's okay, just calm down." he rubbed gentle circles into his back desperately trying to calm him down. He could see the doctor in the room watching impatiently alerted by the sudden activity.

"No no no, he's dead, I lied to him, I said I'd protect him, I lied I lied I lied and now he's dead, it's my fault it's my fault, I lied, I couldn't protect him, he's dead he's dead he's dead…"

"Calm down Nick, he's not dead. It's not your fault. Greg's alive, he isn't dead."

"No no no, he's dead, they said they killed him they said they killed, he's dead.."

"He's not dead Nicky, he's not dead. He's alive, I promise he's alive and you did a great job protecting him." he didn't answer but continued to sob into Grissom's shoulder, overwhelmed by the though of Greg being dead and the sudden rush of horrible memories and old pains reignited through the memory/dream. He cried into his shoulder shamelessly, not caring that he was being seen sobbing uncontrollably, something he didn't do often and hated people seeing, but Grissom was like a father, a source of strength, comfort, and safety. It was okay to let Grissom see him cry. After a bit he settled into short gasps without tears which slowed to hiccups.

"Nicky, can you lean back onto the bed, the doctor wants to make sure you're okay." he shook his head into Grissom's shoulder.

"No, it hurts."

"Please Nicky, I promise not to leave, it won't take long, I'll even sit between you and the mattress so your shoulder never touches it." Nick thought for a moment, still hiccupping. He was about to agree when he thought of something, he said it quietly enough that only Grissom heard, as intended.

"Make her leave, I don't want a stranger seeing my cry." Nick couldn't see Gil's smile. _He doesn't know she saw almost the entire thing, and I'm not telling him._

"Sure." he turned to look at her. "Could you get me a cool wet cloth and give us a few minutes privacy?" she nodded getting the item before leaving. It took a bit of coaxing but he managed to get Nick to lean back a little so he wasn't just pressed up against him so much. Nick swayed but Grissom didn't let him fall in any direction. He washed his face with the cool cloth, wiping away all the tears and eventually the stains as well. The cloth felt so good on his burning face, then Griss had it wrapped around the back of his neck and let it sit there for a few minutes, while Nick still hiccupped, lip trembling slightly.

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"I'm being such a baby about this, I don't see anyone else sobbing pathetically." he looked at his bandaged hand.

"Nicky, there's nothing wrong with crying, and yes we've all cried more than once."

"All of you?" he eyed Grissom curiously.

"Yes, I cried too."

"I don't remember you doing that?"

"You were in surgery, I did it while I was watching, no one was paying a lick of attention to me."

"Watching my surgery, how'd you manage that?"

"Do you remember when we found you at the house?" Nick thought for a moment. Everything was still pretty fuzzy. He hadn't been sure whether it had been a dream or real. All he'd known was the darkness had lifted and Grissom had been there. He remembered how happy he'd been, and how afraid of him leaving.

"Some. I was afraid of you leaving, I thought they'd kill you if you left, I think."

"That's right. You were afraid of everyone except me and wouldn't let anyone near you, you asked me never to leave. So when they tried to make me leave like usual at the hospital, I didn't give them the option. I was there for all of the surgery they'd been force to perform. You were in pretty bad condition when we found you."

"Oh, I don't remember that part."

"That's okay, the point is you waited to have someone for emotional support, I was a coward and did it at a time when I was basically alone, being ignored."

"Oh."

"You're a lot like an ant. You work together with everyone else, the rest of the team as the colony. You work together and accomplish great things together. I'm the earthworm. I do everything alone. I get things done, but I do it on my own. I'm a loner of sorts. The ant gets more accomplished in their life span then a worm because they work together, as a team, they depend on each other, for the physical, and emotional." There was a long relaxed pause in which Nick drank a couple of big gulps of juice, the hiccupping finally stopped. After that, he gained a genuine silly grin.

"Grissom?"

"What?"

"If I cut you in half does that mean there will be two Gil Grissoms at the lab?"

"I dare you to try it."

"Why not? I personally would love to see how the world handles two Gil Grissoms. Wait, I'm not sure there's enough room in the universe."

"You know I can get ant spray anywhere right."

"You're mean."

"I think it's time to get the doctor again." she took that as her invitation, greeted with a fully composed and slightly cheerful Nick Stokes, until she went to examine his shoulder for new damage. She barely touched it to unwrap the tight bandaging and he cried out in agony, jerking away, fighting back new tears.

"I think I'll give you the morphine and come back and numb your shoulder, does that sound good?" he nodded, swallowing back the pain. She came back with the morphine and injected it into his iv. In moments he was konked, leaning heavily against Grissom. The doctor unwrapped his shoulder and examined it, using a portable x-ray machine for a bit. Grissom was focused on Nick.

"How is it?"

"I don't think he did any damage, just very painful. He'll be out for a while, I gave him a fairly hefty dose of morphine. He looked like he needed it. I think, if he continues to improve I can probably start surgeries for his shoulder, hand and knee by next week."

"That's good. Do you know if he'll regain full function of his hand?"

"I really can't. At this point it would be we'll be lucky to get any. He should have had surgery on that hand the day he arrived, if he'd been able to handle it, he would have. The delay isn't going to help him any in that aspect."

"Oh."

"We will have to decide a few things."

"Like what?"

"Whether we want to do separate surgeries for the knee shoulder and hand or a couple of simultaneous ones, those would be the most serious, probably the hand and the knee." Grissom nodded. He wondered what Nick would choose. He smiled at the mumbled thanks from Nick as he dozed happily in the world of drugs. He had one thought milling around in his mind and he pondered it for a long time.

To be an ant or to be an earthworm, that is the question.


	34. Chapter 34

**A/N: Guess What! It's a GREG chapter! Flock, flock to me my happy readers!**

Chapter 34

Grissom sat with Greg. It had been several days since he'd helped him past that first nightmare. In no way had they gone away, _but_ they had never come with such an intensity as the first, and he never doubted Greg being alive. He had several more, never saying what the dreams were, but Griss guessed that they were simple memories that were horrific without expansion. The worst kind of nightmare, unaltered memory. For now there would be no worry of dreams for now. He was in a drug induced sleep while they operated on his knee and hand. He hoped that they were able to fix his hand to functionality.

So he sat with Greg, conjecturing why he wouldn't wake up. He kept asking the doctors. He wasn't in a coma, he wasn't drugged into sleep because they weren't putting anything but antibiotics to prevent infection into his sleep. He didn't understand. He should have been awake. Everyone else was improving. Nick had nearly beaten the pneumonia, clearly enough to chance the surgeries. Warrick was improving though still far from healed. Archie was sore, still very bruised, but he was healing. Grissom made it a point to visit him several times since their dung beetle discussion. Sara was irritable but she too was healing, perhaps out in a week, with the promise of being under supervision for a week or so, until she was more fully healed. Catherine had a cast off and would be getting the leg cast off in a week.

But Greg remained. Not really better, but not worse. In limbo. His injuries were healing fine but he still remained unconscious. It didn't make sense. Why wouldn't he wake up? He needed to wake up. Gil _needed_ Greg to wake up. It was easy for him to admit it now, how much he needed them all. His mind kept going back to his previous thought. _To be an ant or to be an earthworm?_ It was a question he didn't know how to answer. He was being pulled towards both. He was so accustomed to being the earthworm, but now he didn't want to be one. He didn't know how to change. The doctor walked into the room and sighed.

"Still not awake?"

"No, not even showing signs of waking."

"Hmmm…"

"Why isn't he awake, he should be awake by now. There's no reason for him to still be asleep."

"Well there no physical factor contributing. It could be psychological." he sat up a little straighter.

"Psychological?"

"That's right. In the condition he was brought in and the fact that he was kidnapped twice. I don't know what happened during his captivity, but it was traumatic. This could very well be his way of protecting himself. He's probably _afraid_ to wake up. Doesn't know he's safe so he continues to sleep. It's his form of protection. Sleep is a safe place for him."

"So he's just going to continue to sleep and never wake up?"

"No, I highly doubt he can sleep like this forever. Have you tried talking to him?"

"Talking to him?"

"Yes, talk to him, let him know it's safe for him to wake up, that he doesn't have to be afraid anymore. Or talk about things that are normal to be spoken by you. Anything that's normal and not a sign of his captivity. You never know, he might hear you and know he can wake up again." she smiled wryly at him and left the room.

"Talk to him." he stated aloud to himself. About what? He didn't know how to do this. With Archie and Nick, they'd been awake to tell him their feelings, give him something to cue off of. But Greg, he was sleeping. How do you ease the fears of someone who won't wake up? He didn't know. He gulped and decided to start with the basics. Let him know that you are here and not leaving, let him know he's safe. That might work!

"Hey Greg. It's Grissom…I just wanted to tell you that we found you…it's…it's okay to wake up now. You're safe now." nothing. He sighed disappointed. He'd hoped that would work. Not sure what to do next he thought of the only other thing he could talk about that he highly doubted Greg's kidnappers had talked about…Bugs! He launched into hours of just talking about the many different species of bugs and what they do and how they interact with other bugs and people and every other random thing he could talk about for bugs. He looked up at Greg again after a while. He hadn't so much as twitched for the many hours on which Grissom had lectured. He was beginning to think this wasn't going to work.

"You know Greg, the caterpillar goes through a lot of changes. It grows and then it makes it's cocoon after these big changes begin. You're a lot like the caterpillar. You've been going through a lot and clearly made the cocoon, but you are supposed to wake up too." nothing. He stood to look over Greg, he put a hand on his forearm.

"Come on Greg. Just wake up for me. Please. We all want to see you again but you have to wake up. We found you, you're safe and there's nothing to be afraid of anymore. No one is going to hurt you again, just wake up. Please. Greg wake up." to his surprise, Greg responded. His eyes fluttered open, closing for a moment only to flutter open again and stay open.

"Grissom?"

"Hey Greg, how are you feeling?" Greg thought about it for a moment not really sure.

"Fine." he sounded tired and his voice was monotone. He didn't look at Gil but at his hands on the bed.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Can I have a drink?" his voice continued to be flat and empty. Grissom was not happy and extremely worried.

"Sure, anything you want." he handed the cup to Greg who sipped it slowly, staring blankly at the water in the cup between sips. He didn't offer up any attempt at conversation or acknowledge Grissom in any way. His world was focused on his cup of water and nothing else. The doctor walked in.

"Hello Greg, I'm glad to see you awake." no answer. The doctor looked at Gil but he just shrugged not having an answer for her.

"Greg, can you tell me how you feel? Are you in any pain, discomfort?"

"I'm fine." he never looked up at her while she performed her examination. She always had to ask a question three times before she would get an answer which was always single words and totally flat. Grissom couldn't help the concern sky rocketing but he remained silent as he observed. Every now and then she would prod the wrong spot and Greg would his or wince and Grissom would tense and be at the ready to send her away for every single one.

Greg remained minimally responsive. He would only answer a question if there was no way out of it. He wouldn't look at anyone, always looking straight ahead at what was in front of him. Someone brought in some food and he ate it silently. He took each bite slowly. He did everything with a strange, unenthusiastic slowness. It was his polar opposite. Grissom tried constantly to get him to talk, to say anything, or to even look at him, but Greg remained solid. Silent and unresponsive. After the food he just laid down and was asleep, again. Gil's heart sank. He watched Greg sleep, trying to think of how to help him, but he admitted to himself. He had no clue how to help Greg. He clearly wasn't fine, but he wasn't allowing himself to be helped, whether he did this intentionally or not Grissom didn't know. He was hoping that this was some kind of shell-shock that would wear off in a bit.

He knew he had to stay with Greg. They were in a sort of rut. He would wake up, Grissom would give him a drink even though he never asked, a nurse would come with food and he would eat. All the while Griss would be trying to get him to talk, about what happened, how he felt, anything that he would respond to, but Greg remained unresponsive. He knew now that this was no shell-shock, it wasn't going to fade away with time. He had to do something. He was _trying_ to do something, but none of it worked. He was swallowed up by his unresponsiveness. He couldn't even get Greg to look at him.

"Greg talk to me. I just want to help. Please just talk to me." no response.

"I'm worried about you, you've been through a lot and I want to help you through this, but you have to let me." nothing. He got up and put a hand on Greg's shoulder. He got a response. Greg rolled over to turn his back to him, otherwise unresponsive. Grissom moved to the other side of the bed.

"Greg, please, just let me help, don't shut me out. I'm trying to help. Just let me help." Greg rolled over again. Grissom switched sides. He could see Greg's eyes clearly, saddened to see them dull and lifeless, lacking the vibrant spark of life and the love of life that he'd had before. It made Grissom want to cry seeing Greg so beaten down.

"Greg just talk to me. I don't care about what, I just want you to talk to me, let me know you're still in there somewhere." He rolled over again. Grissom switched sides but before he could say anything Greg pulled the blanket over his head, completely concealed beneath it. He tried to pull the blanket down again but Greg had clamped down. The blanket wasn't moving. Grissom sighed and sat down not pestering Greg again. He realized that the first kidnapping had been bad, but he'd been recovering emotionally. It had been slow but Nick had told them about the improvements he'd made. But this second kidnapping was too much for Greg, he was completely shut down and couldn't get past it. He didn't know how to help him, no matter what he tried it wasn't helping. Greg was overwhelmed.

**A/N: Hugs for Greg! He's in need of many many hugs! Poor boy.**


	35. Chapter 35

**A/N: Another Greg chapter! Enjoy!**

Chapter 35

Greg laid in bed, hiding beneath his blanket. He shut out the world ever since he woke up. He didn't know why he shut them all out, they were trying to help. But he couldn't do it, he couldn't come out from under the blanket, he'd managed a few words when he first woke up long enough for his examination. But then he just shut down, his mind went into overdrive. He just kept remembering, everything, it just played over and over again and he couldn't make it stop. He just wanted it to stop. He wanted to forget. But he couldn't forget, not even for a few seconds.

Catherine had come by at some point, she tried to talk to him but he couldn't form the words. He'd been glad that she didn't hate him after causing her accident, he just couldn't tell her. He just couldn't do it. She stay for a long time, he thought. He hadn't been out from under his blanket at all since he went under. He was afraid to come out. He knew they said it was safe, nothing had happened since they found him, but that was the second time.

They had said he was safe the first time, he'd believed them. But then, he'd heard the thump, seen Nick on the floor, holding his bleeding head, and there was James. He was standing over him, grinning like a jackal. At first he thought it had been a dream, he'd had many dreams lately and they all had James standing over him, hurting him. But then, he saw the syringe, he felt the prick as it pierced his skin, and the fuzzy, tired feeling wash over him, and he'd known it was real.

After that, everything was fuzzy and confused. At times Nick was there but then he would just disappear, right before Greg's eyes, during the memories. He didn't know what was real. He just wanted it to all go away, to forget, but it wouldn't. It kept coming back. When he awake he saw everything, it would play before his eyes, even when he closed his eyes, it was there. He couldn't sleep at night, the dreams always came to him, they lasted constantly, so vivid, so real. He couldn't escape them. He just wanted to escape. He couldn't even do that.

He felt so tired. Tired of dreaming, tired of hiding, tired of being afraid, too tired to even muster emotion. He felt deflated. Empty. He was on empty. He just laid there in his dark hiding spot, waited for it to fade away, but none of it ever did. Subconsciously he knew he couldn't just lay here, hiding under the blanket, in a hospital like a child forever. A hand rested on his shoulder. He could tell it wasn't Grissom's, and it definitely wasn't Catherine's hand. He felt the fear jump through him as he didn't recognize the hand. He held stiff ready for a syringe, a strike, or a bullet, but it never came.

"Hey Greggo." he didn't answer, but he did relax when he recognized the voice. He tightened his grip on the blanket. But Warrick didn't try to pull it off.

"Hey man, don't do this to yourself man. We're trying to help you, just let us in." he didn't answer. This was the first time anyone except Catherine or Grissom had come. He wondered where Sara and Nick were. He guessed they hated him, he really didn't know. Maybe even though Catherine seemed to have forgiven him, they hadn't. He didn't know, it was logical. He gulped down the thought. He didn't want them to hate him. He tried to pretend to be asleep. Maybe Warrick would give up. He didn't.

"G, don't do this to yourself. It won't go away by hiding, it'll only make it harder. Just come out from under the blanket. You don't have to talk, just take small steps and come out." he gulped. He wanted to comply but he couldn't overcome the fear. He even tried to move, but his fingers remained clenched.

"Come on G, just come out." Greg squeezed his eyes holding back the tears. He wanted to come out, he wished he could tell them that, he _wanted_ their help, but he was so afraid he couldn't move, he couldn't bring himself to say anything. He was frozen with the fear. He could hear Warrick sit down in a chair. He was getting good at distinguishing and identifying the sounds he heard. Warrick sighed tiredly.

"Okay Greg, take your time. No one will rush you. When you're ready, we'll be here to help you." they remained in silence for a long time. He didn't know how long, he never did. His little blanket hide away was timeless. He heard Warrick take several trips to the restroom, so he guessed it had been a long time, but Warrick never left the room. At some point he fell asleep, but it was mostly just a doze, still vaguely aware of his surroundings, but still the nightmare came. He jolted awake with a slight gasp, finding himself still securely under the blanket.

"You okay man?" he even managed to open his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. _If only I weren't under this blanket, they could see I'm trying. They could help me, but why can't I bring myself to let them?_ He stared at the darkness within the blanket, not understanding why he couldn't break free, there were people, his closest friends all around him practically begging to for him to let them help him, but why couldn't he let them help?

He had done a lot of thinking, especially why Nick and Sara hadn't come. He'd decided that it was because something prevented them from coming. He hadn't a clue about Sara, but Nick, he'd decided that him seeing Nick on the floor with a bleeding head had been real, and maybe some of when he'd woken up, after being taken, some of that he thought might be real, but he couldn't discern real from imaginary. That's what he thought made this so hard, what was real? And what had he imagined?

"Greg, please let us help you. There's nothing wrong with asking for help." he felt a small tug at the blanket. Greg felt something change, he didn't know what it was that had changed, but he suddenly realized that his fingers were easing their grip on the blanket. _Try again Warrick, don't give up, not yet. Try again, I can let you in now, but I can't come out, please try again._ As if hearing his plea, Warrick tugged one more time and the blanket pulled down to his shoulders and stopped. He blinked at the sudden light. He didn't look at Warrick, but Warrick had a big smile across his face.

"Hey there, it's nice to see you again." Greg couldn't bring himself to speak or look at Warrick, but he was out from under the blanket and that was something, a step closer. He gulped down a lump of fear that had built up whenever he wasn't under the blanket. The fear had never gone away, but for some reason, he'd felt safer the fear not as bad.

"Hey, if you're hungry I can ask for a nurse to bring some food. Is that okay?" Greg thought for a time and then slowly nodded feeling hungry but still not quite ready to speak.

"Okay, I'll get you some food." While Warrick called for some food, Greg slowly sat up, his body aching from the single position he habituated for so long. He still felt exhausted and empty. His eyes automatically went to watching his hands. They waited for the food in silence, Warrick not wanting to push Greg too fast. He ate slowly, even though his stomach wanted to wolf it down. He didn't have the energy to eat quickly. He felt like he was barely managing to eat slowly. It felt like an eternity had passed before his bowl was empty along with his glass of juice was empty. For every bite he'd been swallowing back the tears and the anguish that was building and suddenly wanted back under his blanket. He sank down and pulled the blanket up to his chin and stopped. He was so tired. He quickly fell asleep.

"Rest well Greg, I'll still be here when you wake up." and then he was asleep, oddly comforted that Warrick would be there still when he woke up. Warrick watched as Greg fell asleep. He hated the lifeless, dull, empty look that that had consumed him. His eyes looked so dull. It wasn't Greg. Greg was a person brimming with life, energy, even weirdness, he had a vibrant energy and spark to him. This just wasn't Greg. He sighed and shifted. He hoped that this wouldn't destroy the Greg they knew. He wanted him to pull through this and recover, becoming the person they'd always known and loved.

Several hours went by before Greg woke up again. Warrick had been starting to get nervous that he wouldn't wake up, but he did. He still didn't look at him, but he sat up in bed without prompting and continued to stare silently ahead.

"Are you hungry Greg?" he nodded slowly though he still couldn't bring himself to speak. He sighed still feeling exhausted. It seemed like no matter how much rest he got, he still felt exhausted. The food arrived and he started to eat. Warrick was talking to him but not about anything that he would actually have to respond to, and for that Greg was grateful.

He didn't think he could yet. As he ate he felt like he could barely swallow there was so much tears an anguish he was suddenly holding back. He didn't know where it was coming from but it was suddenly here. With each bite it kept on growing and growing. Getting harder to hold it back. He didn't want these emotions. They were the first he'd had besides the overwhelming fear, and he didn't want them. He'd been hoping that when he woke up, the fear would suddenly be gone and the happiness and love of life would suddenly have returned, even though he knew it couldn't happen that way. Nothing was ever happening the way he wanted.

Warrick jumped when suddenly the table when shooting towards the wall, bouncing off with a loud bang. Greg jumped as well not having expected it to go that far, only intending to push it out of his way tired of eating. It banged off the wall and that was all it took. He was back in the room. Sitting in the chair, James sitting across from in a chair. He was holding the revolver. He spun the barrel, it snapped in place. The muzzle was pressed against his forehead, so cold, so hard, unforgiving. He heard the hammer cock back. BANG!

He looked back at Greg. His eyes were wide and glazed over, completely unfocused. He was shaking slightly, his eyes following some unseen object, breathing a little faster, skin gone pale. He could see he was having a flashback. He'd seen it a few times, mostly with extremely sensitive and easily spooked witnesses or victims. It didn't look right with Greg. He was a close friend. He jumped and whimpered abruptly. Warrick was up instantly sitting on the side of the bed and drew Greg into a firm hug.

"Come 'ere Greg. It's going to be okay, it's over, they won't get you again. I promise it's over." to his surprise Greg, who had been furiously rubbing his forehead stopped the movement and suddenly broke into sobs. He'd been able to hold them in until Warrick had taken him into the firm hug, that one contact, a contact to reality, and his emotions broke free like a flood. He sobbed uncontrollably into his shoulder and Warrick let him, maintaining the hug. He talked to him and soothed, telling him that he'd be okay, that he could get through this. That he was safe and no one would ever hurt him again. He tried to believe, but they'd said this before too and he didn't truly feel safe.

Warrick held onto Greg, maintaining the hug, the connection that had let loose Greg's emotions, while he sobbed, the pain, the fear, the anguish all breaking loose at once. He sobbed for a long time and Warrick held on even longer. He waited until Greg was no longer sobbing, he waited for the hiccups to subside, and for his breathing to return to normal before he let him go. His eyes were bloodshot and red rimmed, but he could see something in them, the spark and vibrancy still wasn't there, but they weren't as…empty. He smiled softly at him.

"Feel a little better now?" he shrugged non-committing.

"This will get better Greg, you just have to give it time and keep trying. Don't give up." they sat in silence for a while before Warrick realized that Greg had fallen asleep again. He smiled and pulled the blanket up to his shoulders. He couldn't help but wonder what the flash back had been, but he wasn't going to press Greg for information. James had done far too much of that. He wasn't going to push Greg for anything he didn't want to do. He was just glad to have him out from under the blanket and some what responsive, even if it wasn't verbal yet. He slept for a long time, his emotional outburst having exhausted him. While he slept a nurse came by and said he could have a shower when he woke up, but he had to have someone with him in case he fell or something like that. Warrick was quick to volunteer taking the fresh set of greens for Greg. It was several more hours before Greg woke up blinking owlishly.

"Hey Greg, the nurse said you could have a shower when you were ready. Said you had to have someone with you in case you fell or something so I volunteered, is that okay with you?" Greg nodded and slowly climbed off the bed wincing and swayed slightly. Warrick grabbed his arm to steady him. When they got to the bathroom, Greg was devastated. There weren't any doors or even a shower curtain for privacy. He was about to turn around.

"Don't worry Greg, I'll sit with my back to you, let you keep your privacy." That earned Warrick a weak, appreciative smile that didn't last very long, but it could have been an eternity, it had been there and that was all he cared about. The hot water felt so good on his body. He felt weeks of dust, grime and sweat washing away and his muscles relax. He stayed in there for a long time until his legs started to shake from tiredness. He quickly washed his hair before turning off the water, wrapping himself in the huge fuzzy towel. As promised Warrick was sitting with his back to Greg.

"Hey Greg if you need any help just tap my shoulder." he gave Greg a way to ask for help without speaking. He hadn't been sure if Greg would ask for help if he actually had to say something, so he gave him a loop hole. Greg was glad of this because after he got on his fresh boxers, which had been painful to do, he knew he wouldn't be able to do the rest without help. So he tapped Warrick's shoulder. After a while, with lots of help, Greg was dressed and back in bed, eating some more food. He had this strange feeling. It wasn't happiness or peace, he was still a long ways away from that, but the fear wasn't so oppressive. He felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Some time later he fell asleep and for the first time in a long while he knew. This was real.

**A/N: More hugs for Greg!**


	36. Chapter 36

**A/N: Hey, I bet you guys thought you weren't getting one today, well so did I, but I managed to write this all in one day, today! It was a BEAR! to write. I tried to write it sooner and absolutely nothing came to me. I couldn't figure out how to start the chapter. But, I pulled through for you guys so you're going to reward me with REVIEWS! I love you guys! Enjoy!**

Chapter 36

Greg sat on his bed a bowl of oatmeal in front of him for breakfast. After he'd had his shower and slept for over eight hours solid afterward, still plagued with vague and distant nightmares, he'd felt better, more rested. Although he'd felt physically better, he didn't feel much better emotionally. He didn't struggle with what was real and imaginary, and his fears weren't so overwhelming that he felt he had to hide under the blanket, but he felt empty. He pushed his food around in the bowl not wanting to actually eat it or drink the apple juice beside it. Catherine was with him now. It turned out that Warrick had stayed almost two days without leaving. She was looking at him sympathetically. He didn't want sympathy, he just wanted to go home. _No, not my apartment, no there, it started there._ _Somewhere else, surely someone would take me in for a few days._

"Greg, you really should eat that." it was a soft reminder that he knew he should follow. He sighed and actually scooped some into the spoon at took a bite. It was bland. He gulped it down, the familiar lump of emotions trying to break loose. He drank some juice to force it down. It was sweet and yet bland. He took another bite quickly followed by a drink but the lump continued to grow. Not too long ago he would have given anything for a little bit of food he'd been so hungry, during the first kidnapping.

Now, he could barely take a few bites he detested food so much. He felt guilty about it but he couldn't help it either. The lump grew. He was seeing James, eating his grilled cheese with a soda while the man he never knew the name of cut him up. He might as well have brought popcorn. The memory made Greg want to get sick, all sight of food reminded him of that now. He tried desperately to gulp down the lump but it wouldn't go. And then he felt the silent tears streaming down his face, dropping the spoon and drawing his knees to his chest resting his head upon them. He ignored his ribs complaints.

"Oh Greg, it's okay, things will get better." she wrapped her arms around him, rocking him slightly and ran her fingers through his hair. He didn't cry uncontrollably like he had with Warrick, that was the first and only time he did that, now he just cried strongly and silently. He just wallowed in the comfort she provided wishing she could just make it go away, that they all could make it go away. But they couldn't, none of them could. No matter how much support they were providing him it all just came back so he continued to sob into her shoulder, not knowing what else to do.

"Greg, it might help if you talk about it, just talk to me sweety." he shook his head into her shoulder, he couldn't talk about it, that would be reliving it, going through it again.

"Please, just try, I'll be right here with you. It'll be easier to help you if you talk to us." he was going to say no, but again he felt something change though he would never be able to say what, just like when he was able to let go of the blanket and come out. Something changed.

"I can't do this." he sobbed.

"Why don't you think so Greg?" she cued for information. She wanted to know what his perspective was, what was he seeing?

"I keep seeing them. Everything. Everything I do reminds me of all the things they did. I can't sleep, I can't eat, I can't even shower without it reminding me of what they did." his sobs slowly subsided. She leaned him back so she could look him in the eye.

"How bout this, what did they do that you are reminded of when you eat." he looked away not sure he could go through it, telling someone else.

"Greg, we can't help you through this unless you tell us. We aren't going to judge you or think you're weak because we know you're a very strong person. Trust me."

"When…when they were trying to get the name, after Nick gave me that name to tell them, before the video conference. They were cu-cu-cutting me up, real bad. James uh, he was eating grilled cheese like a person eating popcorn at a show. And I I was so hungry, he just sat there, watching the show." the tears reappeared and he was shaking slightly. Saying out loud had made it real somehow.

"Where's the most relaxing favorite get away spot you go to?" he looked at her surprised.

"Ummm…the beach."

"Okay, imagine yourself sitting on the beach, perfectly free and unharmed, eating grill cheese."

"Umm..is that going to help?"

"Just try, close your eyes, imagine yourself on the beach, and take a bite of food."

"Do I have to eat the oatmeal? It's gross." he looked at her perfectly serious."

"Just a few bites to see if it works, then you can ask for something else. Does that work?" he nodded unsure, but hoping this would work. He really was hungry. He got a spoonful of the oatmeal then closed his eyes until the image of his favorite beach on a perfect day consumed his mind and he took a bite. The revulsion tried to rise up with the image of James but he doubled his efforts in the beach image and took a second bite. It worked.

"It works, can we get something else now?"

"Sure, what would you like?"

"Two Santa Fe sandwiches from Carl's and a coke?" she smiled at him.

"That's what sounds good huh?" he nodded.

"If you promise to eat it all, I'll get if for you."

"Is there a time limit on how long it takes me to eat?"

"No"

"Deal." she could see there was a smile struggling to break free, it didn't quite make it, but the signs were there. He would pull through this, in time. She waited until Warrick arrived before she left for the food. He smiled warmly at him.

"Hey Greg, how are you feeling." he wasn't expecting an answer more than a shrug.

"Okay I guess." he beamed.

"Hey, you're talking, it's nice to hear you talk again."

"Yeah. How are you."

"Sore but good."

"Sore?" Greg inquired slightly panicked. _Busted. Stupid stupid stupid. He didn't know! Why did I say that?!_

"Uh yeah, but I'm fine."

"What happened?" he could hear the panic in Greg's voice intensifying.

"Umm..I got in a bit of a fight, I'm fine."

"How did this fight end Warrick?" he didn't answer, he so didn't want to tell Greg he got shot, twice.

"Umm…I kind of got shot." the horror quickly engulfed Greg's expression.

"I'm fine really, I've even been released already, promise, I'm fine."

"O-okay, is everyone else okay though? No one else got hurt, right?" Warrick mentally cursed every gram of Greg's intelligence.

"Ummm…"

"What happened? Who else got hurt?" he could hear the panic increase.

"Everyone is okay Greg, but…Sara got shot, you know about Catherine, and Archie got beat up and shot, and Nick got roughed up pretty bad with you, but everyone is okay now."

"Nick? What happened to Nick?" he stared at him wide-eyed.

"Uh, you don't remember?"

"No, I remember all of it, I just…I just know what was real and what wasn't."

"What happened?"

"I remember being in a room, when I first woke up, I saw Nick and tried to wake him up but he was seriously unconscious. I tried to open the door but it was locked, I just kept trying. Then they must have been able to hear me and they got mad, and a guy came in and kicked me around some. I managed to get into a corner before I passed out again."

"yeah." Warrick mentioned encouragingly.

"When I woke up again Nick must have woken up, he'd thrown up and moved, but I was too afraid to move so I just sat there. I fell asleep again I think, when I woke up Nick had thrown up and was closer to me so I scooted over to him and tried to wake him up but he wouldn't respond."

"Yeah, we found out he had a serious concussion. Apparently it took a couple of knocks to subdue him." Greg grimaced but continued slowly. He was glad to be saying this to Warrick, he felt comfortable telling him, or at least as comfortable as one could get talking about such things.

"At some point the guy came back, he talked to me about how they would get the name and how they would kill one of us quickly…and…and they'd keep one of us around for years as…entertainment.." he gulped.

"Ah Greg, we would have found you. We wouldn't have given up. We wouldn't let them do that."

"I know. Then he was going to cut up Nick and I don't know, I guess I snapped and yelled at him. He got mad and gave me the cuts on my arms and chest then he left. Nick woke up again later. We talked and he told me to just let them have at him next time, he was slurring really bad and was unconscious barely finishing the sentence. That was what scared me the most."

"He's okay Greg, just keep on remembering that he's okay." Greg nodded, pausing for a moment trying to get a handle on a new wave of emotions before continuing.

"The next time they came back I was hiding behind the door and attacked them. Nick woke up and joined the fight. I was able to make a break for the door but James tackled me and somehow got on top of me. I think he shoved something in my mouth, I'm not sure, but I lost consciousness. It was after that that things got…weird."

"Weird?"

"Yeah."

"What happened after that?"

"Well, they'd be attacking me over and over again, like the first time, or they'd be hurting you or Nick, but things would be wrong. Things like there would be three of each person, or they'd be lime green, multi-colored and not in the usual way, or they'd be stretching and twisting in shape. You know the computer screen saver where it looks like a ball is rolling around under the screen?"

"Yeah"

"That happened a lot but there would be dozens of balls. Sometimes I'd be floating, or someone would be inside out, but for some reason I couldn't tell it wasn't real. It was…scary."

"I'm sure it was Greg. They gave you a sedative but it mixed with the other meds in your system, it made you hallucinate. But there was nothing wrong with being scared." Greg nodded.

"Other things would happen…but I was always able to tell they weren't real."

"What were they? Greg?" he could tell Greg was struggling at whether to tell him or not, and it was a fierce struggle at that. He suddenly grabbed the juice and downed it as if he hadn't had something to drink in months.

"Greg? It's okay to tell me, I won't laugh or get mad or whatever. I'm just here to listen."

"You, you guys would be there. I'd be floating in the room, you would be…you'd be….attacking me….hitting and kicking….Grissom would be in the back of the room…laughing and cheering you on…"

"Oh Greg, you know we wouldn't attack you or hurt you in any way right? You know we couldn't hurt you."

"I know that, I always knew it wasn't real but, it scared me. The one thing I knew wasn't real was what scared me the most. I just, I can't stop seeing it, every time I close my eyes, that's what I see and it scares me." Greg pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, his elbows resting on his knees, the tears meandering down his face, the only sign he was crying.

"Greg, I don't know what to tell you, I mean you already know that they aren't real and that we'd never do that. How often do these dreams happen?"

"Every time I close my eyes. I can see it right now even. It's not the drugs anymore, I'm just remembering, but I can't make it go away. I just want it to go away." he gulped the tears coming faster as he ground his hands harder into his eyes as if to crush the nightmares. Warrick was astounded. He hadn't expected them that often. He scooped him into a firm but gentle hug, feeling Greg lean into him.

"Greg, I don't know for sure, but I hope that they eventually go away. I've never had to deal with something like this and I wish you didn't either. Just remember that when you need to talk you can call me any time, I don't care how late or early. Just call me, or come over to my house, or I can come to yours when you have these dreams. We'll watch something happy. You seen Finding Nemo yet?" he felt him shake his head into his shoulder.

"Well, whenever you have these dreams, you let me know, call me, have me come over, come to my place, any time, with or without warning, you're getting a key to my house, and we'll talk about them then we'll watch Disney movies, nice happy Disney movies, starting with Nemo, get them off your mind. How does that sound?"

"Okay."

"Good, just remember you can always talk to me okay, I'll always listen, no matter when or where." Greg sat back, ending the hug, and started to wipe away the tears from his face. Warrick brought him a cool wash cloth which felt marvelous against his skin.

"Thanks Warrick."

"No problem Greg, oh and when you have those dreams, just imagine us bowing down to the Great Blue Hawaiian Coffee King, who is immortal and godly." There it was, not a smile, but an attempt at one, it was wonderful to see the attempt.

"Sounds good. Oh Warrick, don't tell anyone okay. I don't want them to know."

"Okay Greg, I won't tell."

"Thank you." Catherine came into the room with a bag of food and a soda with a smile.

"Hey, I brought you some food. Remember you promised to eat all of it."

"I will. I'm actually hungry." she was about to say something when the phone rang. She answered as Warrick rolled the table to Greg and he dug through the bag producing the desired sandwiches. Catherine hung up a moment later.

"I have to go, that was Grissom saying something about Nick and needing parental supervision. I'm going to go see what's going on. Enjoy the food." she gave Greg a squeeze on the shoulder and then left. Warrick and he looked at each other and shrugged. Greg imagined himself on his favorite beach, all to himself, on a perfect, warm day, eating his sandwich, Warrick by his side.

**A/N: Well, You like? There's maybe three chapters at the most left(of course last time I estimated I said eight, and I've written fifteen, so just ignore that estimate!) Let me know!**


	37. Chapter 37

**A/N: For all the Nick lovers(there are many I know, I am among them) this chapter is for you! Here's something you won't see everyday, Nick and Morphine, and interesting combo! Hehe!**

Chapter 37

Catherine Willows had no idea what to expect when Grissom called her and sent her to Nick Stokes room in the hospital under the reason of _parental supervision_. That was a new one for her. She entered the room to find Lockwood and Vega sitting across the room as far from Nick as they could, Archie's bed was empty with black spots on it, though not very many, and a nurse putting fresh bandages on his disfigured hand, tossing the old ones, which were oddly stained almost completely black. Nick was not being cooperative.

"Owwwww…" he whined pitifully, "stop it, owwww." the nurse was struggling to keep his hand still while she re-wrapped the bandages.

"Mr. Stokes please hold still I have to get this wrapped or you'll have to have the bones reset, you don't want that do you?" Nick stuck out a pouty lip for a moment holding still for about three seconds before beginning again.

"Stop it, that hurts…owwwww…."

"Mr. Stokes, it wouldn't hurt if you'd stop pulling away." he tried to pull away his hand but she held him mid-forearm and wouldn't allow for the movement. They were both huffing with irritation, though the nurse was showing great composure. Nick however, stuck his surprisingly long tongue out at the nurse.

"Meany." that was when Catherine decided to be the hero of the day.

"Nicholas Stokes you put that tongue back in before I pierce it!" He whipped to look at her, her entrance having gone unnoticed by both, and quickly sucked his tongue back in like a lizard. Then he got this silly lopsided grin from ear to ear.

"Hello Cathy-roo, come to rescue me from the meany?" _Cathy-roo? That's new, I'll have to write that down for unusual nick names._

"No, I'm here to make you behave. Now hold still and let the nurse wrap your hand." her voice left no room for argument, even again a high-as-a-kite Nick Stokes. She walked closer to the two.

"Thank you Mrs. Willows."

"No problem." she looked at the black stained wrappings. "What did he do?" suddenly Archie came huffing out of the bathroom, grumbling loudly. The silly lopsided grin returned to Nick twice as large as before.

"Isn't he beautiful? A real work of art. My masterpiece. We should put him in a frame." Catherine turned to see what Nick had done and stood, gaping at Archie. From his cheek bones, all around his eyes and his entire forehead were pitch black. Just south reaching his upper lip, the left half of his face--splitting at the center of the nose--was a bright solid blue, the right half was a bright purple.

The chin and lower lip had large, lumpy bright, almost lime, green circles and hot pink filling in any space between the circles. His neck started with orange, but apparently Nick had gotten bored and there were large splashes of just about every color ever invented splotching his entire neck. Catherine suddenly noticed that Archie wasn't wearing a shirt, but in just as many colors as his face and neck, Nick had painted a bra onto him with a squiggle line down to his belly button. She fought back the smirk.

"Oh Nicky you didn't." Archie shot him a glare that would have been a cause of death if it weren't spoiled by all the paintings.

'Oh he did. And what's worse is he waited until I was knocked out with pain meds to do it, so I didn't wake up for hours afterwards. The stuff had plenty of time to soak through my shirt and into my skin! I CAN'T GET IT OFF!" Catherine was a bit worried about witnessing a 419, Nick being the victim. _Good motive though._

"My masterpiece, lovely." Nick said with a slight drunken Texas slur. Catherine was finding it very hard to hold back the laughter.

"How did he get it all over him then?"

"The black marker broke during the bra." Nick confessed.

"Yes well, said markers have yet to be found." Archie groused.

"Isn't he supposed to be bed bound?"

"We think he hopped, we're not sure, there weren't witnesses." the nurse commented. For the first time Catherine noticed that Vega and Lockwood were working hard at keeping their distance from Nick.

"Well what did he do to you two?" they looked like deer in headlights. Lockwood went first, the look of a kid tattle-tailing.

"He ummm…proposed marriage but I turned him down so he asked for a foot massage." Vega looked aghast at him.

"Lucky, after my marriage proposal he wanted a _full body_ massage." Cath turned when Nick spoke up again, absently pulling his hand away from the nurse, but not enough to impede her work.

"Aren't those ladies just love-ely" he giggled like a girl and they all stared at him shocked. Catherine leaned her head back with a groan and a perfect view of the ceiling.

"oh Nicky." she looked back and the officers their noses scrunched and Nick. "You two can go, I'm sure Brass has better things for you to do than baby sit him." they left eagerly. Cath looked back at Nick who had gone back to fighting with the nurse, pulling his hand away as she tried to wrap it. She quickly dug through her purse until she found the desired object.

"Hey Nicky, let's play a game." he perked up instantly, the nurse and hand forgotten.

"A game? Play, I wanna play, can I play?" she smiled.

"Of course. You like Uno?"

"Yeah Yeah Uno, Uno" he grinned maniacally. She was struggling not to laugh at his morphine induced antics. He would probably die of embarrassment later, but for now it was entertaining. Then he frowned.

"Cath…" he whined in a childish voice, "I can't hold the cards" he gave her a pouty, I'm about to cry, look.

"Well just set them on the table then."

"You'll look though!"

"I promise, I won't look at your cards, promise." he looked at her for a moment then seemed satisfied. Although Nicky never noticed, Catherine did look at his cards, using the advantage to let him win. The point was to keep him occupied and happy. They played three rounds, the nurse finishing around round two and leaving pleased to be finished. After the third round Nick could never be happier with himself having won all three.

"Hey Archie you want to play a round?" Cath offered.

"I don't want to play with Nick." he griped still sore about his painted body.

"Well than I'll hold Nick's cards for him and you can whollop him for a few games, sound good?" he sighed.

"Okay, I'll play." by the the time the cards got put away Nick had won three games, with Catherine's help, and Archie had won two. Nick quickly fell asleep for that and Catherine, after much discussion, was able to dissuade him from revenge. She stayed until Nick was safely asleep and Archie off the war path before taking her leave. That ha been an interesting day to say the least. She snuck out careful not to wake Nick. She didn't want to have to deal with his childish, morphine induced antics again today. She never would have guessed morphine would bring out such behavior in him.

She wandered down the halls of the hospital She wasn't quite sure what she wanted to do next. She was going home soon, but she eventually decided to go visit Sara before dropping by Warrick and Greg then going home. She had been with Nick and Greg for a while and she was in the mood for girl time. It was nice to see her smile instead of snarl when she came in.

"Hey Catherine, how are things going?"

"I'm doing good, everyone is finally improving."

"That's good, how was Nick?"

"High as a kite. I felt sorry for Archie."

"What's he doing to Archie?"

"He, ummm…painted Archie while he was zonked on meds, apparently he can't get it off. Oh, I've got a picture!" they gave a bit of a girlish squeal and they as Catherine pulled out her phone and scrolled to the picture. The room abounded with giggles and 'oh poor Archie's'. after a bit a silence filled the room. Joy would come but it was only short spurts right now.

"So how's Greg? Grissom told me about everything that's happened." Catherine pursed her lips.

"He's…improving. He's having a really hard time, but he's talking again. Took a week but whatever Warrick did, it worked. But, he's really having a hard time."

"I wish I could go see him, but they say I still have to stay here for a day or two more. Gosh, I just want to leave! I feel fine!" she collapsed back to the bed frustrated but still winced as a dull pain streaked across her chest.

"I know, but just be patient, you'll get out of here sooner if you cooperate with them, as hard as that may be." Sara yawned involuntarily.

"Do I have too?"

"Yeah, but hey, when you do get out, you can stay at my place, we'll have a slumber party or something. Good ole girl time, and just relax. We've all got a lot of time off, let's just have all the fun we can, a shopping spree maybe?" Sara smiled.

"That sounds great. I'm inspired to be a 'good girl'," she said sarcastically, "and go to bed. Tell Greg I said to get better soon, that I'll visit as soon as they let me and give him a hug for me?" Catherine stood headed to the door.

"Sure, I'll let him know. He'll be glad to hear it." with that she headed towards Greg's room. He regarded her sleepily, blinking owlishly, and she knew it would be a short visit. Warrick sat next to him more bright eyed and smiled.

"Hey Cath." Greg didn't sound so monotone, but he didn't have the usual spark either.

"Hey Greg. How are you feeling?"

"Better than earlier. Food helped. And talking to you and Warrick, that _really_ helped." _he emphasized a word. Progress, he's slowly working his way back. YES!_

"That's good. I'm glad you're talking it through. It'll help. Sara says hi, that she'll visit when she can and sends a hug." he nodded as Cath gave him the requested hug. She hated that she could still see the haunted look in his eyes, more in the background, but just as strong.

"How's Nick? Is he still okay?"

"Yeah, he's high as a kite and driving Archie nuts. You wanna see his umm…masterpiece?" they looked at her surprised and nodded. She again whipped out the phone bringing up the picture that Archie hadn't known she took. Warrick laughed. Greg gave a small but clear smile. It was the first and one of the best things her and Warrick had ever seen. Greg smiling.

"Archie would never have sat still for that, how'd Nick manage?" Warrick inquired.

"He waited until Archie was sleeping defenselessly aided by meds."

"Wicked." Greg gave a tired yawn.

"Tomorrow can I moved to Nick and Archie's room? I'll feel better with them, being able to see them, know they're okay."

"Absolutely Greg, it won't be a problem. I think Archie would like company besides Nick, a buffer zone I suppose." almost another smile.

"Thanks," he yawned again, "I think I'm going to sleep. Warrick, could you…could you stay tonight?"

"Of course, I planned on it, brought my PJ's and everything."

"Well, I'll let you sleep and come by tomorrow. Sleep well." he nodded with a yawn and laid further back, bringing the blankets up to his chin again. He only did it when he was sleeping now, but it still made him feel a bit safer having the blanket tight around him. He was asleep quickly, reassured by the fact that Warrick was next to him, protecting him from anything in the night. As Warrick too fell asleep, it was with a triumphant happy picture in his head, a memory of what had happened. Greg had smiled.

**A/N: Did you enjoy? I hope so. I worked very hard on this chapter. Poor Archie. Anyways, depending on how it flows there will be one or two chapters left, I highly doubt three. Enjoying?**


	38. Chapter 38

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews! They made my day! I was a little worried how the last chapter would be recieved. I'm glad you liked it. Now the next chapter. A bit of Greg angst, and more of NICK HIGH! You love me!**

Chapter 38

That night Greg had a nightmare again, much like the ones the he'd told Warrick about, it was one of the dreams that had scared him the most while he was locked in that vile little room. But somehow, it was…distorted. It didn't look near as real as it had with the drugs. When he was in the room, the dreams would be perfectly normal except for him floating and the fact that his friends were attacking him. There had been no distortions or abnormalities. He had wondered why the dream that was so realistic had been the one he knew was a hallucination. But this one, _it_ was greatly distorted from before. This time, they were all attacking him, but there were two Warrick's, and the second was trying to stop the others from hurting him. He would lunge at, them away from him or attacking those who couldn't be pushed away. Eventually they all stopped and turned on Warrick. They attacked him, hitting and kicking until he went limp, a bloody mess.

"Noooooo!!" Greg woke, bolting straight up. Warrick jumped out of sleep, instantly alert.

"Greg?"

"nononononono…"

"Greg, Greg, look at me. It was a dream. Okay, it was a dream."

"A a dream?" _That must have been one horrible dream._

"That's right, it was a dream. Just take a deep breath." he complied and after a few minutes of Warrick talking to him he was breathing normally and calmed down, though still a little edgy. He ground the heels of his hands into his eyes again as if to rub out the images.

"What was the dream?" Warrick prompted. Greg took a long shuddering breath and let it out quickly.

"It was like the others, you guys attacking me, but it was a little different. There were two of you and you were fighting against the others. Trying to make them stop. Eventually they killed you and I woke up."

"You see, you're already starting to combat the dreams."

"What?"

"You know that we would never do that, and it's starting to affect the dreams. You had one of us there trying to protecting which _is_ what we would try to do. You should just get the rest of us in there fighting with me, you know, Archie would be a good addition too, he was a great and powerful power ranger once." Greg smirked.

"Good idea. Can I have my movie?" Warrick smiled. He wasn't sure whether Greg would remember or not.

"Absolutely, got it right here." he popped in the movie and kept the volume low so they wouldn't get in trouble. Greg made it about a third of the way through before he was sleeping like a log peacefully. Warrick shut it off and sank into his chair quickly following suit. Neither woke until morning. Greg woke first feeling quite refreshed, which surprised him. Warrick was still out like a light. He hobbled his way and made a restroom trip before hobbling back. He stared at the ceiling for a while, thinking about what had been happening, trying to work his way through it. He found himself getting emotionally worked up after a while so he stopped. Warrick was still asleep. He was bored.

"Warrick. Warrick." Nothing. Greg scowled and looked around. There was a stack of pens, who knew what for, on the table next to him. He picked one up and without aiming tossed it at Warrick. It his shoulder but he didn't react. Greg threw another and another. One hit his stomach, the other his leg and he still didn't stir. Heaving a sigh he picked up another and chucked it aiming more carefully. It beaned him right between the eyes and he jerked awake to a Greg smiling mischievously.

"Got bored huh?" he asked, looking at the pens lying around or on him.

"Yes. You snore too."

"I'm sorry. Ready for breakfast?"

"No, not yet. We could finish the movie maybe?" the truth was he'd gotten himself scared again trying to work his way through the emotions and he was desperate for a distraction now. It was a little too early to move into Nick and Archie's room. It took him a bit to calm down though he thought he'd hidden it well since Warrick didn't seem to notice. Once he had he was shocked when he heard himself chuckle at the movie. He saw Warrick give him a subtle sideways glance and smile but said nothing. He was making progress. Each day he woke still safe and protected by his closest friends, he felt a small bit of the weight on his shoulders lifted away. He was far from over this, but he could feel himself moving forward and that was what mattered to him. Before he knew it the movie was over.

"What'd ya think?"

"I liked it."

"Good." Catherine came in suddenly with a bag of food. It was hard to do and he couldn't maintain it for very long but he gave her the biggest smile he could muster. It made her day.

"You brought me food. Now this is service!" she smirked at him.

"Who said anything about it being yours? I'm hungry." his face dropped. He pouted and gave her the best brown eyed puppy look he could, which was a well oiled, perfected look.

"Alright alright. Enough with the look, it's yours anyways."

"Thanks Cath. He pulled out two breakfast burritos" Warrick looked about confused.

"Where's mine?"

"Huh, it should be in there somewhere, I got you this bagel thingy with lots of cheese and meat." Warrick dug through the bag again. Nothing. He sat back annoyed.

"It's not in there."

"Oh, I'm sorry Warrick. They must have got the order wrong." Warrick feigned being distraught. They smiled at him.

"Well, I have to go home and get a shower. I'll get breakfast on the way back."

"Bye." Greg called.

"Bye Greg." Catherine watched as Greg closed his eyes for a moment took a bite, the shuddered with a slight grimace.

"Does it work, the beach thing?"

"Most of the time, I guess this morning I'm having a little trouble. I was thinking about what happened earlier. I thought if I could think about it, I could face it. Guess I was wrong, I freaked myself out."

"Greg, just because you get a little freaked doesn't mean you can't do it. You thought about it, you were facing it. It's good you didn't try to go through it all, that would overwhelm anyone."

"You sure?"

"Yes. Think about it. When you first woke up, you wouldn't say a single word, you were so overwhelmed, for good reason, that you hid under the blankets for a week."

"I didn't realize it'd been that long."

"but the point is you over came it and came out. Now look at yourself. You're talking, you're smiling again, and you're facing it. It won't be easy and it will take time, but you're trying, which means you can get through this."

"Thanks Catherine, you're right." They ate their breakfast, talking about other stuff, happier things, just enjoying each other's company. The time passed quickly and he soon found himself with a satisfied stomach and ready to change rooms.

"Can I go to Nick and Archie's room now?"

"Sure, everything is set up, they brought in another bed. I'll get the wheelchair."

"I can walk. I promise, I won't collapse. I'm just sore. Please." he gave her another puppy look and she gave in.

"fine, but if you get too tired, I'm getting a wheelchair."

"thanks." he slipped out of the bed, making a pit stop at the restroom before they began their trek. It was nice to be up and walking again, even if his muscles complained to him. He'd been getting a little restless for physical movement. Catherine's phone rang and ignoring the no cell phones rule, she answered. They were about halfway down the hall that the room was located in when a door slammed loudly. Greg jumped stumbling over his feet, still awkward with movement. Catherine held his arm to steady him while he looked at his feet to make sure they stayed under him barely having said hello.

"Oh good Lord" he looked up and gawked. There was Nick, hobbling down the hall, completely nude except for the bandages on his hand, shoulder, and knee, making little progress, shouting at the top of his lungs.

"THE ALIENS ARE COMING THE ALIENS ARE COMING!" he continued to shout it over and over. As two orderlies ran after him desperately trying to corral him back into the room.

"I'll call you back." she hung up and put a better use to her phone. Another patient, a little old lady out for her morning walk, saw Nick coming and shrieked, hobbling in the other direction, comically faster than Nick was going. By the time they got him back into his room, Catherine had lost all semblance of composure, laughing hysterically, barely breathing.

"I changed my mind. I like my private room. Let's go back." he blurted once she was breathing again.

"Sorry Greggo, Archie already knows you're coming. You're stuck." he huffed.

"Fine but I'm not admitting to know him. They've clearly got him in the wrong ward. The loony bin would suit him better."

"Oh come one. You'll never be bored." Catherine jibed as they began walking toward the room again.

"Yeah but my being bored isn't what I'm worried about. It's Nick being bored that I'm afraid of." they entered the room silently, incapable of looking at Nick directly. He was back in bed, with a gown on again. _Thank heavens, _and was fussing with the staff as they tried to get him settled enough to go to his last scheduled surgery. Greg saw two beds and though it was clearly the one Archie occupied, he was currently showering tell tale by the sound of running water, he took the one farthest from Nick.

It was good to see him alive and well, though he was half insane, but they were clearly going to need a buffer zone if he was to maintain the 'I don't know that crackpot' policy. Catherine sat between the two beds, staring at her shoes, the only thing she could do to remain composed with Nick still in the room. Greg was getting settled when he suddenly looked at the wall.

"Umm…Cath, I don't think running from aliens is all Nick's been doing." she looked at the wall surprised. On it, in silly string was a gigantic smiley face made out of hot pink, blue, green and the default yellow. Over the door in hot pink were the words SO MANLY. There was also a peace sign and a yin and yang sing that were smaller but just as well done. They gaped.

"How did he do that?" they looked at Nick, one shoulder tightly bound, the other hand completely immobilized.

"Magic. I'm magical that's how I dun it." Nick replied with his drunken Texas slur again. They shook their heads at him as they rolled him out on the way to the OR.

"Well I think I know where he got the aliens idea, besides the morphine." Greg pointed to four seasons of various Star Treks and two seasons of Farscape.

"I can't believe Archie would risk those with Nick on morphine. He must have been desperate." Catherine pulled out her phone again and took pictures of Nicky's 'wall art' before the janitor, who explained that they were cleaning in while Nick was in surgery when he'd cried like a baby at the suggestion of such an audacious crime. When Archie came out of the bathroom freshly showered, the graffiti still present, Greg couldn't resist.

"Hey look! The colors got brighter with the shower!" Archie gained the look of utter and pure horror, hobbling back to the bathroom mirror like an old man. When he returned, he glowered an Greg evilly.

"Get. Off. My. Bed."

"Not a chance, I don't know that loon and I'm not sitting next to him. He's _your_ room mate anyways. You sit next to him." they continued to bicker but Archie eventually lost and got stuck with the middle bed. Catherine spent the day refereeing for their bickering, which was far from serious fights. It was just something to keep their minds off recent events.

Everyone was glad that when Nick returned from a successful surgery hours later he was konked and remained that way all day. It was a short reprieve. Throughout the day, Archie would take advantage of Greg's restroom breaks to take his bed back, unfortunately, Greg would always get it back in the same way. In the end, Archie was back in the middle for the night. Greg was looking at him with a smug look when she left and Nick seemed to be asleep, but she had her doubts. She was overwhelmed with the feeling that the moment the lights went out, there would be two people shrieking bloody murder, and it _wouldn't_ be Archie.

**A/N: You like?**


	39. Chapter 39

Chapter 39

When Archie woke the next day, he instantly knew something was wrong. The first thing he noticed was that his eyebrows felt stiff and immobile. The next thing he became aware of was that he could hear Greg grumbling. He didn't catch the statement, but he caught the four key words, kill, hate, murder, and Nick, whom he suddenly heard giggle. _Yup, something is definitely wrong._ He realized suddenly that the feeling he had with his eyebrows, was the exact same way his legs felt right now. _Nick! What did he do? I'm going to kill him. I know it already. I will Kill NICK STOKES! And by the sounds of it, Greg with gladly help._

He peeled his eyes open, blinking in the light while his eyes adjusted. He brought his hands up to rub the sleep out of his eyes. His heart stopped the second his fingers came in contact with his eyebrows. What should have been hairy and slightly rough, was smooth, solid, and dented outward like speed bumps in a parking lot. He gulped. He opened his eyes and looked at Nick, who was giggling again as he beamed with a immature, toothy, ear to ear grin. _Whatever makes him that happy is sure to kill me._

He looked at Greg, sitting on the other side of him, grumbling loudly. Where his eyebrows should have been, was a white dent, that was shiny, reflecting the light. He continued his examination. Greg's pants had been cut roughly into shorts and it didn't look like a job Greg had done. But that was not the true horror. Like his eyebrows, his legs, from just below the knee to well down to the ankle, was pure shiny white. He was poking it and prodding it trying to get the substance off, but it was solid and thick enough that all the long fuzzy hair that occupied his legs, was completely hidden beneath the substance.

"What did he do to you?" he asked, pushing himself to sit up, a dull ache in his ribs.

"Same thing he did to you I guess." it sank in as he remembered the feel of his marred eyebrows. His eyes went wide and he yanked the blankets off his legs, nearly sobbing as his legs were in the same state as Greg's. He tapped the substance nervously, it was like tapping a plaster cast except a thousand times harder. He noticed a distinct, but faint scent to it. He brought a vandalized leg closer and gave it a whiff.

'I think this is glue?"

"He had to have mixed it with something. No glue is this strong alone. I can't get it off."

"How did we sleep through him doing this? I mean the graffiti was one thing, but this?"

"Man, the cast for my wrist wasn't this tough." Nick giggled again.

"I thought he was still bed ridden? He's not supposed to be able to walk yet?"

"Where is stash of supplies?" they jumped up going to the closet with his stuff. The first bag had been clothes, the second bag, was his stash. They gawked, it had everything, the treasure trove of stuff.

"_A CSI could do anything with stuff…anything we wanted…"_ Archie whispered.

"I'm bored.." Nick whined suddenly. They froze. The grin that spread maliciously over Greg's face was purely sinister.

"Anything? You said we could do _anything_ with this stuff." they approached Nick, malicious grins abounding.

--oo0oo--

Catherine felt oddly energetic. The nights rest had been luxurious to say the least. She hadn't felt this energized in a while. The best part was the fact that she didn't have to spend it solving a crime. She was on her way to make sure Archie and Greg weren't killing each other or Nicky in their bickering. She'd had a feeling that Nick would wake up in the middle of the night since he'd slept through the day. They would be out of the hospital by the end of the week, but given that it was only Tuesday she wondered who would kill who first. It was good to see the friendly jabs and jibes at each other again, even if they were kind of in over drive right now. She turned the corner. _Okay, this is good, no one is running down the hall nude yelling aliens, I don't hear shouts, yells, or giggles. They must be behaving._ HAHA! Boy was she wrong. Silence with children is the most deadly of all times.

She opened the door, a piping hot white mocha from Starbucks in her hand. The moment reminded her of those times, in books or movies, when a murderer is interrupted in their work, ready to plunge the knife into their victims chest when someone walked in, the knife held high above the chest, mere seconds away from the plunge. The killer would always pause, surprised and look at the intruder. _You know Cathy-roo, those people usually ended up dead. Wait, did I just call myself that. Oy, Nick is contagious._

Before her stood Archie, at Nick's head, whom was silenced with duct tape over the mouth and a similar strip over one eyebrow. Archie was just pressing smooth a second strip on the second eyebrow. Greg was by his legs, about twenty unsharpened pencils rubber banded together, eraser ends pressed against his ankle. She could also see a jar with paint brushes ready for use on the table, awaiting their turn. Nick was securely restrained, cautiously as to not harm him with his injuries, but he certainly couldn't escape.

"What are you two doing?" she asked in that motherly tone as if catching her kids in the cookie jar. _Which is just what I did. I caught my surrogate kids misbehaving._ Nick giggled at his timely rescue. Greg scowled, running the erasers up the length of his hairy leg.

"No giggling. We're having fun now, not you…_Dopey!"_ Nick shot up against his blanket restraints, gasping in a high pitched voice through the duct tape. Archie fastened a strip of tape to Nick's equally hairy arm.

"Oh now that's just cruel." Catherine commented pointing to the wad of pencils.

"He deserves it, he let his boredom take control. So we decided to play a game. After this we're playing 419/420B, I love that game. I think he will too."

"And what did Nicky do to deserve that game?" she inquired suspiciously.

"He glued our legs." Archie replied sullenly.

"And eyebrows."

"excuse me?" she asked confused. They each held up a leg that she could now see was encased in glue, or at least that's what they had guessed it was. She was speechless. If anything, she had not expected Nick to glue their legs especially as thick as it was on their legs. Slowly she felt a smirk appear.

"No matter what we try we can't get it off either. I think he mixed something in with it."

"Well…he is a CSI." They seemed to have paused in their amusements.

"Not when we're done. We're using his stash against him. We found a spray paint can, we'll be printing it. We're going to find out who his supplier is." the malicious grins returned.

"Well, do what you want with the supplier, but I have to intervene. You have to wait on him till he's recovered. Then I'll step back and watch." they sighed, disappointed packing up their stuff. Archie grabbed the strips of tape and did the quick rip on all of them. Nick whimpered, his eyebrows demolished.

"fine. We'll get you later." Greg threatened with a grin. Nick shrank away but still giggled of dope.

"I thought he was off the morphine?"

"He is, it doesn't seem to matter, he's still loopy."

"Oh well, I brought something for him to watch either way." They made their way back to the beds while Catherine popped in a dvd of Looney Tunes. She brought every season she owned. Nick was a constant giggles now. With him distracted Catherine made a call to Warrick who was next to baby sit and asked him to bring along the best dissolvent for glue he could think of, she didn't explain why. He wouldn't believe her anyways. When he arrived she and Sara, who'd gleefully been released, were off to the movies for a girl day. Catherine promised to check in on them later. They immediately set to work trying to get the glue off, the pencil bunch remained as a threatening for Nick to behave, sitting on the table.

After a while, Warrick gave up, leaving smooth craters in the encasing where it had worked, but overall, the glue was indestructible. He took a sample of the substance and would analyze it later to see if there would be a better substance to dissolve it. He hoped. The only other way he could think of getting it off was to wait till the leg hairs grew out long enough to squeeze scissors beneath the encasing and cut the hair, maybe then they could slide it over their feet, or maybe they could crack it, but it was pretty tough. They preferred it would just dissolve away. Warrick put in the next disc for Looney Tunes. Nick was giggling again. Except for his giggling, the room was silent for a good half hour. And then…

"Mneee…Mneee" they all looked at him shock, the turn of their heads perfectly synchronized.

"Mneee…Mneee" Warrick smirked. Nick did it over and over and over again.

"Mneee…Mneee." They could tell he was mimicking the Road Runner. Greg and Archie groaned as he continued.

"No no, pinch your nose closed when you do it, it'll sound better." Warrick encouraged.

"Mneee…Mneee" he beamed.

"Much better, almost exactly like the real thing."

"Don't help him! He doesn't need encouragement!" Greg and Archie complained in unison.

"Hehe." Warrick continued. Archie and Greg looked at each other desperately, the situation spiraling out of control. Greg, whom had been bumped to the middle bed, took action. He grabbed the bunch of pencils, and with Warrick thoroughly distract with giving Nick tips, he leaned over unnoticed, hooked the erasers beneath the hem of his jeans and swiftly dragged the erasers up his leg. It gave a satisfying reaction somewhere between a squeal and a gasp. They grinned almost as happily as Nick.

"Stop. Encouraging. Him." they looked deadly. Warrick moved to the other side of Nick's bed and continued. They groaned. Greg looked back at Archie and they had a silent discussion on what to do next. This had to stop. Archie excused himself to the restroom. Warrick never noticed that the sink water had been running for longer than normal, but Greg noticed, and he knew.

Archie would have his revenge. The door opened, he sauntered out coming up behind Warrick. And then it happened. He smashed the bright red, basket ball sized, water balloon over Warrick head. It burst easily, and drenched him entirely. He just sat there, dripping wet, mouth hanging open, frozen with shock. After a good minute he pulled out his cell phone.

"Grissom, it's Warrick, I need reinforcements at the hospital, yeah, no don't bother with the new dissolvent, they're fine." After that, it was either Grissom or Catherine that babysat for the remainder of the hospital stay. The others would visit, but they refused to stay longer than half an hour and risk getting stuck with them. The day they were released to go home, was the day the hospital threw an all out celebration. They were finally gone.

**A/N: I hope you liked. One more after this!**


	40. Chapter 40

**A/N: Here it is folk! The Last Chapter! We've made it through thick and thin and you all stuck with me! I'm so happy! Sorry this wasn't up yesterday, I had an emotionally hard day and couldn't bring myself to write. But I think it's better than it would have been because I was just plain EXHAUSTED yesterday. Let me know what you think!**

Chapter 40

It took several trips to get everyone from the hospital to his house because Nick required the entire back seat. His leg in a cast requiring elevation for a while. Warrick, his car at the lab still, rode in the front with Grissom driving. His house was officially a bachelors pad. He'd offered them to stay for a while, he just hadn't expected them _all _to say yes. He'd expected Warrick and Archie to choose their own homes, Nick didn't have a choice, and Greg he figured would stay as well. That was not a large surprise, he'd been a nervous wreck the few times he'd been left alone, of course those times had been with his adamant demand that he try. And Grissom had respected his effort to recovery. Of course he had Catherine nearby just in case, not that he'd told Greg that, he just couldn't let go like that so soon.

He was nervous every time one of his CSI was out of his sight for more than half an hour and he felt that urgent need to call and make sure they were okay. He resisted, most of the time, but the times he couldn't he always found an excuse to veil the original cause of the call. This had shaken him, badly. He wasn't sure if he would admit it out loud, but nothing had ever shaken him so badly. Not being able to have control. Horrible things had happened to his people, their lives nearly lost, multiple times, and there had been nothing he could do about it, stop it, or even slow it down. He was out of all control, and his friends suffered as he sat back and watched helplessly. It shook him.

He brushed away the thoughts ready to think of better, happier things as he tried to think of where he would put everyone. Nick got the spare bedroom because it had the best mattress. Warrick was left in limbo for a while. His next trip brought Archie and Greg home. Archie got the couch, Greg took an air mattress on the floor next to the couch. That left Warrick and himself, Catherine and Sara were staying at Cath's house. That was when Warrick pulled a cruel, but effective trick. He's seen it in the movie White Christmas with Danny Kay, who would pull out the puppy eyes and caress the old arm injury from saving a guy's life. He had to substitute the arm with his bullet wounds, and gave a pathetic, very fake groan of agony, but it worked. Gil Grissom crumbled like a good wedge of cheese. He scored the master bedroom. He left with his bag of stuff with a triumphant, smug grin and moved into his space. Grumbling at his easy defeat Grissom got another air mattress and blew it up in the only space left. The rarely trafficked end of the hall. Once everyone was settled pizza was ordered in.

Nicky insisted on playing UNO with Grissom while Warrick held his cards for him. They had to explain the game to Grissom. Twice. Nick was still stoned, but not nearly as bad as at the hospital since he was on milder meds. Greg and Archie became engrossed in a heated battle of chess. Nobody won that game. They continued to end in a draw, neither good enough to beat their opponent but good enough not to lose.

They remained that way, game after game of UNO and Chess. The pizza was delicious. Eventually for his sanity Grissom had to have a different game, especially with Nick winning every game. They played Go Fish. Another game that had to be explained to Grissom. By nine Nick was barely awake, Warrick could fall asleep but wasn't near as close as Nick. Greg and Archie though still trying to beat each other at Chess, they could be seen jerking their head up suddenly desperate to stay awake. Grissom saw his escape from Go Fish.

"That's it! Bed time." they all looked at him surprised, all blinking owlishly.

"Huh?"

"Go to bed, all of you."

"Why?" Warrick inquired.

"Because if you aren't there in two seconds, I'm taking my bed back, shot or not." The threat issued Warrick was off like a shot. He then helped Nick hobble to bed and got him settled. Greg and Archie were on their own, but he still checked to make sure they actually went to bed. He had to confiscate the Chess board before they actually went. The house was silent moments later, until a slight snore erupted from the many parts of the house.

Hours later, Grissom awoke._ I've been abducted by aliens._ That was his first thought when he opened his eyes. It took him a moment to realize what had initiated the thought. His air mattress was deflating rapidly. Enough so that it had curled around over his ears so he heard the air conditioner through the inflated plastic which gave it an alien hum. This was effectively sealed with a red blinking light directly above him. He watched it for a moment until his brain registered what had truly happened. He huffed and rolled off the mattress, grabbing his pillow.

He shuffled wearily towards his room. Warrick was in just the right spot to leave no room for Grissom. He huffed grumpily, which is what happened when he was stressed and deprived of uninterrupted sleep, he whacked Warrick with his pillow. He looked at Grissom blurrily, his eyes highly unfocused and not truly awake.

"Huh?"

"Roll over. Make space. Move it."

"Huh?" Warrick yawned all statements in one ear and out the other. Gil huffed again.

"My air mattress popped. MOVE OVER" He was feeling dangerous. He just wanted sleep. Warrick seemed to understand but he rolled the wrong direction. He was now in the center of the bed, with no chance of there being room for Grissom. He grumbled, moving to the left side of the bed. He threw the blankets back, grabbed the top sheet and yanked with all his might. Warrick and the sheet were dragged to the left half of the bed. He groaned at the disturbance but was again asleep. He just chucked the now excess sheet that would be on the floor over Warrick followed by the blankets.

It was at this time that he realized how thirsty he was. He chucked the pillow on the bed, saving his spot and crept to the kitchen for water. When he came back refreshed. Warrick had done a log roll and was wrapped like a burrito in the blankets, sparing not a square inch of blankets for Grissom. He was grumbling all down the hall stealing the blankets off the pathetically flat air mattress stumbling back to bed, thankful for no further interruptions or complications. He was asleep in seconds. The next morning he was the first up, letting the others sleep in, about to take the first sip of coffee when he was halted with a shout from the house.

"Grissom! Help! I'm stuck!" _I swear if he is in the bathroom I will shoot him myself._ He really needed his morning coffee. He sighed and set it down headed to where he could hear Warrick shouting from, the bedroom. _What on earth could he be stuck on or in in the bedroom?_ he stumbled, followed by half awake Archie, Greg, and Nick. They gathered in Grissom's room and stared in wonder. Warrick was on the floor the blankets not only tight wrapped about him, but they were literally knotted, his arms pinned down.

"Help, I'm stuck." Greg and Archie gave a low whistle simultaneously.

"Wow, a boy scout couldn't do better, and you did it in your sleep." Nick giggled and everyone stared at him. Greg and Archie glared, Grissom had gone grumpily to Warrick to work on the knots.

"Nick, I hate you." it was Greg, with Archie nodding in agreement. Nick gave a pouty look.

"Awww…why would you hate me?"

"No one has the right to be happy in the morning let alone _this_ happy _this_ early in the morning." he rocked on his heels grinning.

"Somebody needs a nap, and it's not Nicky." he giggled.

"Don't make me get my erasers." Archie and Greg threatened. Grissom was huffing again, making no progress on the knots.

"Hurry up, I hear the call of nature." Grissom glared and yanked Warrick to his feet giving the blankets a downward yanked. They easily slipped of the hips and to the floor. Sadly they took the boxers with them. Everyone except Grissom cried out in horror, even Nicky, throwing their arms up over their eyes.

"Dude, haven't we been traumatized enough!" Archie shouted.

"I'm scarred for life!" Greg.

"I need therapy." Nicky not stoned enough to giggle at that.

"I need coffee." Grissom pushed his way out of the room. This was the last time he let his home be turned into a bachelors pad. Warrick reclaimed his boxers and went to the restroom while everyone else went for the necessary coffee cups trying desperately for a new image in their minds. That was not what anyone would want to wake up to see first thing, or ever for that matter.

That day Greg and Archie were back at the Chess and Grissom, Warrick, and Nicky were playing a game that he didn't need help with because of the hand, Scrabble. They spent their week in much the same pattern, Catherine and Sara dropping by at least once a day, sometimes staying for the whole day, other times, they would be having a declared girl day. At the end of the week they were declared well enough for the "We're still alive" party that'd been planned.

--oo0oo--

Pizza, soda, and chocolate abounded through the house. Everywhere you turned there was either a soda, slices of pizza, or some form of chocolate. Catherine had made chocolate chip cookies, Sara had made Ghirardelli's triple chocolate brownies. Now _those_ didn't even come close to making it through the night. They played games like crazy, every couple of hours confiscating the Chess board and making Greg and Archie participate with the group. They made sure to play games that Nick didn't need help because of his hand which was to remain immobile for another two weeks.

They played mostly Scrabble, the winner was divided between Greg and Archie. Then they played some Monopoly, Catherine was the undefeatable dictator of that game. The last game they played was risk. Now _that_ had been interesting. The two major powers in that game were Grissom and Archie, neither one willing to lose. After a long hard battle, Archie had conquered the world and Gil had grumbled that if he wanted to keep his job he would play a rematch the next day.

Warrick, Grissom, Sara and Catherine talked for a long time afterwards. They talked about everything and nothing at all. The topic of what happened was a mutually avoided topic. Tonight was their night to just have fun, enjoy each other's company and just forget what happened for the day. Plus it was about the chocolate. Time passed slowly, no one caring about it's passage. Time was no longer of the essence, and they all now had plenty of it. Hour had passed, or that's what it felt like, when they all paused to hear a strange chuckling in the hall, Catherine's well trained motherly ears heard the snickering as well.

"I think perhaps I should rescue Nicky from Greg and Archie." she found them sitting in front of a closed door, snickering. Nick, she decided, was locked in the room.

"What are you two doing?" she looked at them suspiciously. They instantly plastered on very fake, innocent smiles.

"Nothing."

"Uh huh. And I'm sure Nick is in there willingly."

"Is that really an important factor?" Archie insisted.

"It's not like we're hurting him…physically." she rolled her eyes at their dramatic play for fun and stepped into t he room. Nick was tied to a chair, gagged, in the center of the room. He was surrounded by dozens of blow up clowns rocking back and forth wildly a voice box for each one. She instantly recognized the laugh of the clowns, it was a copy of the laughing done by the blow up clowns in the old video game The Zombies Ate My Neighbors.

Nick was sobbing and squirming. That was how she noticed the strings attached to the shoe lace of his unbound foot. They were connected the back rows of clowns which when the strings were pulled the clowns rocked forward bumping the other clowns like dominoes they were all in movement. She couldn't help but laugh. He looked at her with the HELP ME! Look. She laughed again and went to untie him. Greg and Archie stood in the door way with devilish grins.

"Aww Cath, how come you have to ruin our fun. Don't we have a right to our revenge." Nick stared at them baffled, not remembering his antics, as a person often forgets their actions whilst on drugs. Archie still hadn't gotten the paint off, though it was severely faded from what it had been. He currently had raccoon eyes, his eyebrows had bald spots, his legs entirely shaved, and coloring all down his neck that made him appear diseased. The status of the drawn on bra was unknown. Greg had no eyebrows at all and his legs were shaved as well, the collateral damage of the glue.

"You two are just plain sore, he was doped up."

"Yeah, the dope just brought it out, he already had it in him." they filed out of the room, everyone except Catherine throwing evil looks at each other, though there was very little seriousness in any of this. She ushered them into the living room, making sure they sat apart from each other, and the informal gift exchange began. Warrick got his gift from Greg. It was suspenders.

"Haha, very funny." he responded with a grin. Sara was given a box of brownie mix from each person with instructions to make more for them.

"When did I become your personal cook?"

"since you make killer brownies."

"Oh they'll be killer alright." They all laughed. Catherine gave Nick framed pictures of all his artwork during the hospital stay, which included Archie.

"I did that to him?" another evil look from Archie. Nick grinned. Then she gave a dvd to Archie.

"Alien Invasion, by Nick Stokes?" Greg cackled and insisted he play that tonight. Archie shrugged having been in the shower for the event and didn't know how much power he held. Warrick gave Nick a bag of supplies and an alliance for the war to come between him, Nick, Greg and Archie. Nick grinned the plans formulating. Archie gave Grissom a plastic box with air holes. There were two large bugs inside. Grissom's eyes boggled.

"Oooh…two perfect specimens of the dung beetle. These are hard to find in such fine examples. Thanks Archie." he was off like a shot to get his new bug friends settle into the 'bug room' as it was labeled. They all laughed, though only Archie knew why he got Gil two dung beetles. Lastly Nick gave Greg a big box wrapped in the Cars wrapping paper. He ripped it open like a kid on Christmas, the box lasting hardly a second.

"Ahhh…Nick this is awesome." he pulled out a fine leather jacket with the words _Texan's Best Friend_ on the back in wild, Greg like colors. He slipped it on and zipped it up, modeling for everyone. It fit perfectly and was warm and cozy.

"I told you I was buying you a jacket. You won't fulfill your dream of being a popsicle though."

"That's okay, this is the best." he grinned happily.

"Nick that's cheating. You just bought Greg off!" Archie complained, fearing for his war.

"Relax Archie, put your DVD Cath gave you on, it's the perfect revenge. Besides, I'm still in the war." Grissom returned the grin ever present as Archie put on the movie. No one had a clue what exactly it would be, but Greg did know the event that had been recorded. In moments they were all roaring in laughter, as Nick's little escape attempt had been made into music videos with songs such as It's The End of the World As We Know It, and many other alien oriented songs. Nick had sunk to the lowest point he could get to on the sofa and was alternating between indescribable shades of red and even purple. He _did not_ remember doing this and knew it would be the death of him.

Greg sat, snuggled in his cozy new, awesome leather jacket, as tears of laughter streamed down his face as they watched the movie. Everyone except Nick, who was mute with embarrassment, roared with laughter. They were enjoying each other's company, truly a team again. They laughed and were happy, enjoying their time together, a short reprieve before the trial.

**A/N: Was that a good ending? Please tell me that was a good ending. Oh and for freakygirlhere, I just want you to know that Greg IS NOT all hunkey Dorey, I simply ended this story on a good note. There will me more into the emotional effects in the sequal. So was this a good ending?**


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